Stolen Crown
by TamaraJagellovsk
Summary: Maybe there's a better option for the throne of Asgard than Thor. Takes place before and during the events of "Thor" but takes a different turn. Loki/male OC, Loki/Angrboda
1. prologue scene 1

_Prologue scene I_

Frigga, standing with her arms stretched out, one hand on the glowing blue casket Odin brought back from Jotunheim, the other gripping the all-father's spear, Gungnir. In front of her lies a blue skinned baby boy, restless and quietly sobbing. He looks at her with glowing red eyes, as a tiny sphere of core magic rises from his chest. It's white and pale blue, and it's flickering. Frigga keeps her eyes on the sphere, her lips moving and her whole body tense. Very very slowly the blue of the sphere changes to green, and then the white dims and disappears. For a moment the baby's core magic has only one colour. He's very still now, barely breathing. Frigga's grip on Gungnir tightens, her delicate knuckles bright white. And then the sphere is engulfed in a golden shimmer, streaks of it winding around it and threading through it, and the baby starts to smile. The green and golden sphere sinks into his tiny chest. His skin turns from blue to pink and his eyes from red to a pale blue, and the markings on his face disappear. Frigga's body sags, but she's holding herself upright by clinging to Odin's spear, letting go of the casket. After a moment she puts Gungnir down and picks up the baby. Gently holding him against her shoulder she murmurs:

"My son."

And then, straightening and with more authority:

"Loki of Asgard!"


	2. prologue scene 2

_Prologue scene II_

A group of three people standing very close together, their faces obscured. A woman's voice:

"There are rumours the king will announce his successor soon. We are running out of time."


	3. scene 1

_Scene 1_

"I found you a sparring partner," Thor says over the evening meal the brothers are sharing.

"I don't remember asking you to look for one", Loki replies grumpily and drops his fork.

Thor sighs.

"You know what father said."

Loki rolls his eyes.

"Why can't I keep training with _you_?"

"Because you hate it. And besides, I won't have as much time on my hands as I used to."

Loki doesn't respond to either of those statements. His lips are pressed into a thin line.

"I guess I don't have a say in this?"

"No. You don't."

"So what did the poor guy do?"

"Huh?"

"What horrible crime did my unfortunate future sparring partner commit to face such a draconian punishment?"

"Why do you always have to be this dramatic? He volunteered."

Loki's head snaps up.

"He what?"

"I asked around among the palace guard and he volunteered."

"What's in it for him?"

Thor sighs and ignores his younger brother for the next few minutes. Loki pushes his chair back.

"Well I assume an early night might be a good idea then—dawn it is, isn't it? It's always dawn."

Thor just looks at him.

"Be on time. And no magic."

"What?! But that's—"

Loki jumps to his feet.

"Loki," Thor says with his eyebrows raised, and he sounds so much like the all-father that Loki feels like a little boy. Loki's jaw sets. For a second it looks like he's about to stomp his foot, but then he just throws his hands in the air and turns on his heel, leaving Thor with his brow furrowed.


	4. scene 2

_Scene 2_

"Show me what you've got," says Loki's new sparring partner, Breka.

Loki just looks at him with one eyebrow raised and a hint of a smirk on his lips. Breka blushes just the slightest bit.

"I mean come at me."

"You're unarmed."

"So are you."

"Well…"

Loki flicks his wrist and conjures a dagger. Breka grins.

"I was warned this would happen."

"And I was told no magic, but you know, I don't respond well to rules or restraints, so…"

"It's fine. Come at me."

Loki hesitates for a second, but then he makes his move. Breka reacts, and a moment later Loki's dagger goes flying across the yard and Loki lands on his back, Breka's forearm across his throat and his knee digging painfully into Loki's groin. Loki freezes. Breka holds him there for the duration of a heartbeat, and then he jumps up and holds out his hand.

"My prince," he says in a tone that might be respectful as well as mocking.

Loki makes a point of staring at him for quite a while before he accepts Breka's help and gets up. Without breaking eye contact Loki holds out his hand and the dagger returns to him.

"So is this a real dagger or an illusion?"

"Wanna find out?"

Faster than Breka can react the point of the dagger is at his throat, grazing the skin.

"Feels quite real to me," he says, eyes steady, but very careful not to make a wrong move.

Loki holds his gaze for a long time. Breka doesn't even blink. And then all of a sudden the dagger vanishes into thin air and Loki retreats.

"I'm not supposed to use magic."

"What? Why not?"

"It's considered cheating."

"Says who?"

"Oh, just the all-father and the mighty god of thunder, that's who."

Breka starts to smile.

"Well, it's not like I'd want to be overheard contradicting your father the king or anything, but—that's stupid."

Anger rises in Loki's chest.

"He's your king!"

"And does my prince agree with him?"

Loki's not sure what the undertone in Breka's voice might mean, and it unsettles him because usually he's good at reading people.

"I guess I should learn how to fight without relying on magic," he admits reluctantly.

"If that's what you want it could be useful, yes. But realistically, what's more likely: you having to defend yourself unarmed, but able to use your abilities—or the other way around?"

"Are you trying to get out of your appointment?"

Breka chuckles.

"I would never, my prince. I just think it would be stupid not to use abilities as formidable as yours."

Loki circles him.

"What do you know about my abilities anyway?"

"I hear things," Breka says lightly, following Loki's movements with his eyes.

"From whom?"

"Your brother, mostly."

Pain flickers across Loki's features for a second, and then it's gone. His face is a mask, beautiful but empty. He doubles his efforts and tries his best to keep up with Breka until the other man calls it a day.

"I'm afraid you'll be sore tomorrow," Breka says and winces.

Loki rolls his shoulder.

"Yes, I'm afraid I will."

"I recommend the hot springs," Breka says after a moment's hesitation.

Loki closes his eyes with a small sound of pleasure.

"That would be amazing. I can't even remember when I last did that."

Looking at Breka he adds:

"Wanna come?"

Breka's face turns crimson.

"I don't think—I mean it's hardly appropriate—"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

Loki straightens with a sigh.

"Thank you for your advice. And the training session of course."


	5. scene 3

_Scene 3_

Breka is sitting in the guards' quarters with his comrades, drinking mead and playing dice, but he's absent-minded. The prince is nothing like he expected. He's intimidating enough though. Breka tries his best not to think about the hot springs. Instead he starts putting together a list of things to report—when all of a sudden his mind goes blank and his train of thoughts stops, like a thread being cut. He frowns, briefly trying to remember what he was thinking about, but then he's distracted by the game.


	6. scene 4

_Scene 4, hot springs_

Loki's whole body is sore, his knees and ankles aching, his back and shoulders stiff. He throws a veil over himself and sinks into the hot spring's steaming water with a sigh of relief. Letting his head fall back his mind wanders to Breka. What he thought would be a nuisance turned into the best part of his day. He enjoyed training with Breka more than he's willing to admit. The other man's energy, strength and skill are impressive—and the fact that he's unreservedly willing to accept Loki the way he is comes as such a relief. _Wish he'd agreed to join me._


	7. scene 5

_S__cene __5__, __two weeks later_

Loki bends over, panting. When he can breathe again he asks Breka a question that has been on his mind ever since they started training together:

"Why did you volunteer for this?"

Breka hesitates for a second, but then he smirks.

"It sounded like a challenge."

At that Loki starts to grin as well. He bites his lip and looks Breka straight in the eye.

"Are you sure that's the only reason?"

Breka looks away.

"What do you want to hear?" he asks, slightly annoyed.

Loki's voice softens.

"I like you. A lot."

Breka frowns at him.

"I don't understand. They say you have a mistress somewhere, and children."

Loki bursts out laughing.

"I don't recommend calling her that to her face. It's true though. And one day there will be a wife. But that doesn't mean I restrict myself to one gender. Or race."

He looks at Breka, waiting. Patient. Watches him make up his mind. Or find his courage, more likely. Finally Breka says through gritted teeth:

"This is a game to you, isn't it? But it's a game I can't win."

Loki tilts his head to one side.

"What do you mean?"

"It's complicated."

"Actually it's not. I'd like to kiss you. Will you let me?"

When Breka doesn't react he adds:

"This is where you say either yes or no."

After what feels like an eternity Breka whispers:

"I want nothing more than to kiss you right now."

"Then why don't you?"

Breka's eyes are brighter than usual.

"I can't," he breathes and breaks the eye contact. "I can't," he rushes out once more, and then he flees.


	8. scene 6

_Scene 6_

Breka is sitting in his mother's house, wine, bread, cheese and ham on the table between them. Uta pours him another cup of wine, chatting away. She's been around the queen most of the day, as she usually is. When she notices that her son isn't really paying attention to her, she pauses. After a moment she asks:

"So how are things going with the prince? Any new insights?"

Breka hesitates with his answer.

"Son? Did you learn anything? Anything that might help our case?"

A slight blush appears on Breka's face.

"He likes me, mother."

"As in—"

The blush intensifies.

"Yes."

"That's great! So why do you look like your wine has gone sour?"

"Because I turned him down."

"What? Why?"

"You know why."

Uta looks like she has something to say about that, but then she just shrugs.

"Well we all know that the prince picks from soldiers, slave boys and whores alike. I doubt his bed will be cold just because you told him no."

"Mother! Also Asgard doesn't have slaves."

"You know what I mean. And I'm not judging. He's young, and he's a very attractive man. I do think you should reconsider your answer though. Might be useful if you got _that _close to him."

Breka's chest tightens. That's exactly why he turned Loki down. Becoming his _friend_ while having a secret mission is bad enough, becoming his _lover_ feels entirely wrong. If only it didn't feel so right at the same time…


	9. scene 7

_Scene __7_

The men of the palace guard look up when there's a forceful bang on the door.

"Who's there?"

The door opens and they struggle to get to their feet.

"My lord," the highest ranking stammers.

Loki gestures for them to relax.

"I need a word with Breka. Is he here?"

"In the stables, my lord. I'll get him."

"No, that's fine. I'll find him. Proceed."


	10. scene 8

_Scene 8_

Loki opens the stable door as quietly as he can. Breka is talking to a slender brown horse, gently stroking its neck, running his hand over its back and hind leg. The horse flinches away.

"Easy, my boy. I know it hurts," Breka soothes.

"I might be able to help with that," Loki says with a soft smile.

Breka spins around.

"What in the nine—Loki?! I mean, your highness—"

Loki takes a step closer, chuckling.

"Careful, he doesn't tolerate strangers," Breka warns him.

Loki halts his step, carefully monitoring the horse's reaction.

"What in the nine realms are you doing here anyway?"

Loki takes his eyes off the horse and looks at Breka.

"I wanted to see you," he says.

"Why? I mean, what's wrong?"

Loki chuckles again.

"Nothing. I just wanted to see you."

Breka returns his attention to the horse.

"He's injured his leg a few days ago and it's not healing very well. His fetlocks are too delicate for combat I'm afraid, but he's such a good boy..."

Loki stands closer. Almost close enough to touch.

"Is this all right? Me being here?" he asks quietly.

Breka swallows.

"Depends."

"On what?"

"On what you want."

"You know what I want. You want it too if I recall correctly."

"I—the men—"

"Are quite busy getting drunk and relieving each other of their pay."

Breka lowers his head.

"I'm sorry, my lord. I can't."

"Would you please look at me?" Loki asks, low and gentle.

Breka turns, eyes still on the ground.

"Breka?"

Breka refuses to look up.

"What is it?"

"You're royalty. I'm just a soldier. My father was a blacksmith."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

Eventually Breka does look up.

"I volunteered because I've always been in awe of you. I wanted to be close to you. And now that I am, much closer than I ever dared to hope—"

"You're scared?"

"I'm not sure what it is that I'm feeling. Inadequate, probably."

"That's not a blacksmith's vocabulary," Loki says with a smile.

"Please. I'll see you on the training court? If you still—"

Loki backs off with a sigh.

"As you wish. Good night then."

"Good night, my lord," Breka whispers.

Just before Loki disappears into the night Breka calls out for him. Loki turns back and looks at him.

"I'm sorry. I wish—please don't be angry."

"I'm not," Loki says and shakes his head. "It's not anger that I feel."

When Breka remains silent Loki gives him a smile and a minuscule bow.

"Sleep well. And all the best to your brave horse."

Breka stares after him until his horse nudges his shoulder. He turns around and rests his forehead against the soft warm fur. Never have the stables been this quiet, this dark, and this cold. _It's not anger that I feel… _Breka has to admit to himself that Loki took the whole thing with a lot more grace than he would have.


	11. scene 9

_Scene 9_

Their swords clash with so much force that the sound rings through the palace. Loki is drenched in sweat but refuses to surrender even though it's obvious that he's no match for Breka's skill and strength. When Breka finally twists the blade from his hands with a complicated move, the prince cries out in frustration. A bright green wave explodes from his empty hands and strikes Breka down. The back of Breka's head hits the ground, and then there's an eerie silence. Breka doesn't move. In a heartbeat Loki drops to his knees by his side and checks for injuries. He closes his eyes and holds out his hands, hovering over Breka's still form. A faint light starts to glow between his palms and Breka's face, white at first but then it turns yellow and orange and golden. Loki's face is set in concentration, and his lips move in a silent incantation. The light wavers and dies away. Loki opens his eyes and searches Breka's face.

"Wake up," he whispers. "Come back. Please come back to me."

Very slowly Breka opens his eyes, but he has trouble focusing.

"Loki?"

"Yes, it's me. I'm here. Can you look at me?"

Breka tries, and finally his vision clears.

"Thank the norns," Loki says with a deep sigh. "You scared me."

"You _hit _me! With magic!"

"I know. I'm sorry."

Breka closes his eyes.

"I had no idea how powerful you really are," he says after a while. "You're a dangerous man."

"I already told you I'm sorry. And I brought you back, didn't I?"

Breka sits up.

"This, like everything, is just a game to you. Sending a man halfway to Valhalla and pulling him back at will. Are you amused? Is this—"

He turns pale and starts staggering. Loki reaches for him and gently guides him back to the ground.

"I'm sorry, Breka. I didn't do it on purpose. Magic is linked to emotion, and when my control slips, I can't—I'm sorry."

Breka lies still for a few moments, taking deep breaths.

"Is it true that the queen taught you? How to use magic I mean?"

"I think we should get you to the healers. I'm not sure if I did enough. Or even the right thing."

Breka opens his eyes and sits up again, slowly this time.

"Thank you. For what you did. I wish I knew what it felt like."

Loki starts to smile. He gently traces Breka's forehead and temples.

"A bit like this," he whispers, while a golden light seeps from his fingertips. Breka's eyes widen. He looks straight at Loki.

"That's—"

"I know."

Breka leans in. Loki's chest rises and falls, and then he turns away.

"Healers", he says and clears his throat. "I'll make it a princely order if I have to."


	12. scene 10

_Scene 10_

"Explain to me what happened during training today," Thor says, his eyes narrow and his voice flat.

Loki thrusts his jaw out.

"Nothing that can't be fixed. Those who take up swords get injured."

"It wasn't a sword that sent a good man to the healers."

"He will be fine, Thor!"

"That's not the point!"

"What is the precious point then, dear brother mine?"

"The point is you defying my orders!"

"Defying? _Your _orders? Can you even hear yourself talk?"

"Your brother is right, Loki."

The brothers turn towards the door where the all-father is standing. He steps closer.

"We were _both_ very clear on this. You're not allowed to use _magic._" It sounds like an insult in Odin's voice. "You'll finally learn how to fight like a man. Breka might have been too lax with you. I'll assign you a more experienced teacher."

"No!"

Odin looks at him as if he's grown a second head. The all-father raises an eyebrow.

"No?"

"Breka did nothing wrong. You're right, I ignored your instruction"—_notice how I do not call it an order?—"_about not using magic, but that's going to change. I realised you were right. Fighting Breka showed me how much I have to learn."

He bites the inside of his cheeks.

"Please allow us to continue."

Odin starts to smile. He nods once.

"Very well. Proceed. But not before the healers clear him for duty."

"Yes, father. Of course."


	13. scene 11

_Scene 11_

Loki enters the healers' ward, looking for Breka. When he is shown to the right room there's a man Breka's age with him. Breka smiles at Loki.

"My lord! I didn't expect you to pay me a visit."

He clears his throat.

"This is Leif. He's an old and very close friend."

Loki quirks an eyebrow. It makes Breka chuckle.

"Not _that_ close. But we've known each other forever."

"My lord," the healer says with a respectful nod that is almost a bow.

Loki extends his hand.

"It's good to meet you, Leif. Thank you for your work here. I mean generally, but especially looking after Breka."

"It's what I do. By the way I hear it was you who put him here."

"Leif!"

Loki smiles at Breka.

"It's fine. He's right. It _was_ my fault, and I'm sorry."

"It's also your fault he made it here alive, your highness. Whatever you did on the training field saved his life. It was also a nightmare to untangle, but it definitely saved him."

Loki squints his eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"I assume you weren't trained in healing magic, were you?"

"Barely the mere basics, and it's been ages. Why?"

"Because I have no idea how you did what you did. Do you even know yourself?"

Breka clears his throat.

"Leif, I don't think you should—"

"No, it's fine, I want to discuss this," Loki interrupts him.

Leif casts a glance at Breka's tired face and straightens.

"He needs rest. Would you care to follow me, my lord?"


	14. scene 12

_Scene 12_

A few days later Breka is released to his quarters, but not yet declared fit for duty. Loki shows up half an hour after he makes it there.

"Can you have visitors yet?"

Breka smiles.

"Of course, why not?"

"I don't know, I wouldn't want to jeopardise your healing process."

"You're worried about me! I'm flattered."

"Of course I'm worried. The whole thing was my fault."

"Yeah and I'm sure you pay personal visits to everyone you've ever fought."

"They don't usually end up in the healers' ward for almost a week."

Breka's features soften.

"I'm fine, Loki."

He freezes.

"I mean, your highness. Please forgive me."

"It's perfectly all right to call me by my name, Breka. Especially when we're alone."

The moment he says it they both become aware of it. They _are_ alone, in Breka's quarters, at nightfall. Loki swallows and squares his shoulders.

"I'd better leave. Leif was very clear on you needing a lot of rest. Have a good night."

"The answer is yes," Breka blurts out.

Loki looks confused.

"To what question?"

"The one you asked me a while ago. You said it wasn't complicated, just a matter of yes or no. It's yes. Please?"

Loki starts to smile, and his gaze is very gentle.

"Are you sure?" he murmurs. "You've been hit on the head pretty hard…"

"Stop teasing. Stop stalling."

"I don't usually take orders very well," Loki says, still smiling. "But I'll make an exception."

He leans in and kisses Breka, a gentle, almost tentative touch of their lips, waiting for Breka's response. And Breka kisses him back with a hunger that surprises both of them, his hands roaming Loki's shoulders and waist. It's a massive turn on, and Loki is struggling to keep control. He breaks the kiss and takes a step back.

"Rest. You're supposed to rest."

"Right. Sorry."

Loki chuckles.

"Never ever apologise for a kiss like that. That memory will keep me happy for quite a while."

He runs his fingers over the bump on Breka's head.

"Still hurting?"

"A little."

Loki frames Breka's face and kisses him again.

"Speedy recovery," he says and pulls away with a sigh.

Breka stays silent for a moment, and then he says:

"You could stay… if you want… I mean…"

Loki is very serious now.

"Are you sure that's what you want? I have quite a reputation… I'm afraid your comrades are going to give you an earful. Several earfuls, probably. Also, the healer prescribed rest, remember?"

"You could still stay. Keep me company. I mean, it'd be nice to… you know… oh Hel, would you just hold me? Please?"

Loki takes one long step and pulls Breka into an embrace.

"Of course. There's nowhere I'd rather be tonight."


	15. scene 13

_Scene __1__3__, montage_

As soon as Breka is allowed, they take up their training sessions again. Loki sticks to his promise and refrains from using magic, at least in public, creating a veil around them when he deems it necessary.

Breka leans on his sword and looks around.

"So how does this work by the way? Nobody can see us? Can they hear us?"

Loki steps closer.

"It basically makes them forget that we exist."

"So if I was outside the veil I'd forget you?"

"As long as the veil is up, yes."

Breka gives him a gentle, lingering kiss.

"That's a horrible idea."

Loki smiles at him, taking position again.

"I could build in an exception."

"So I'd be the only person in the nine realms that would know you exist?"

"Yeah."

Loki lifts his sword.

"On second thought I don't think I'd need a spell to accomplish that."

Breka just gives him a look.

"What?" Loki shrugs. "I couldn't just let that lie there."

"Yes. You could. Stop generating yourself as this lone wolf character. You're at the centre of the universe. Your father rules the nine realms."

Loki grips his sword with both hands.

"And what a father he is," he spits.

"At least you have one!"

They both take a breath.

"I'm sorry," Breka says.

Loki shakes his head, lowering his sword.

"No, Breka, I am. You're right. Growing up without a father must have been hard—and painful. And me constantly complaining about mine probably isn't helping. I'm sorry."

Breka stays silent. Loki steps close and gives Breka a gentle kiss.

"You don't want to talk about him."

"I'm not sure," Breka says quietly. "I never mentioned my sister, did I?"

"No, you didn't."

"Sometimes I think the only reason I became a soldier was to make her proud. She was amazing with a sword. Could have disarmed you in half the time it takes me. Father kept coming up with new ideas for the ideal sword for her, lighter and lighter but still lethal. It didn't save her in the end though."

Breka falls silent, looking over Loki's shoulder into a distance.

"What? What happened?"

Breka shakes his head, tears shimmering in his eyes.

"Could you keep that veil up for a moment please?"

"Of course," Loki says gently and pulls Breka into an embrace.


	16. scene 14

_Scene 14, training court, the next day_

"I've been thinking... maybe you'd like to give this a try. It was my sister's."

Loki stares at the sword Breka is presenting to him.

"You can't be serious."

"Afraid of being mocked for using a woman's blade?"

"Breka, I've stopped caring about mockery a long time ago. But this must have enormous sentimental value to you. What if I break it?"

Breka chuckles.

"Oh don't worry. It's a lot like you."

"Annoyingly sharp?"

"Yeah, that too. But actually I meant 'a lot stronger than it looks.'"

Loki gives him a look and a smile. He accepts the sword with a gracious little bow. After a few experimental moves he looks up, surprised at how good it feels. Breka is smiling widely.

"I thought so. It fits your style."

"What do you mean my style?"

"The way you fight. It's very different from my own or anyone I've ever fought."

Loki's shoulders sag.

"I know. I'm trying!"

"No, that's a good thing!"

"I'm not sure the all-father would agree."

"An adversary whose moves are unpredictable is almost impossible to defeat." Breka is picking his next words very carefully. "I don't think it's wise to try and morph a strength into a weakness for the sake of conformity."

Loki starts to smile.

"So not a blacksmith's vocabulary!"

Breka grins and shrugs.

"Trying to keep up with present royalty. My mother picked up a thing or two serving the queen."

He turns serious.

"I mean it though. There's more than one way to do things."

"Not in my father's book. Or my brother's. Or my teachers'..."

"What about your mother?"

Loki's eyes turn soft.

"She's different. She's a lot more like me. Or I'm like her, probably. It's beyond me how she can stand living with my father," he adds with a sigh.

Breka chooses not to comment on that.

"Anyway," he says, drawing his sword. "You're a lot faster than me, a lot lighter on your feet, and you're ambidextrous. Not to mention your magic. What a waste not to use _all _of that to your advantage."


	17. scene 15

_Scene 15, Breka's quarters, later the same day_

Breka has just finished washing and changing after his training session with Loki when there's a knock on his door.

"Come in."

The door opens halfway and Loki pokes his head in.

"Loki! Come on in!"

Loki slips in and closes the door behind himself. He's changed clothes, too, wearing a soft shirt of his trademark dark green colour and black trousers now instead of his leathers. He looks a little insecure.

"I wanted to thank you. I mean… I realised I hadn't even thanked you for letting me use your sister's sword. So. Thank you. I really appreciate your trust."

Breka steps close and puts his hand on Loki's arm.

"You're welcome."

"And I wanted to thank you for everything else. Your time and your patience, and above all for accepting me the way I am. It's so good to be around someone who sees the best in me instead of constantly finding mistakes and failures."

Breka's chest tightens for a moment.

"You're amazing, Loki. I really fail to understand why your family is giving you such a hard time."

Moving even closer he goes on:

"You're brilliant, you're funny, you're an incredibly fast learner, your magical abilities are breath-taking," Breka puts his arms around Loki's waist and brushes his lips against Loki's neck. "And you're hot as Hel."

Loki hums against Breka's shoulder and wraps his arms around Breka.

"Continue."

Breka chuckles.

"With the praise or the kisses?"

"Can you do both at the same time?"

Breka chuckles again.

"I'm afraid not."

"In that case I'll take the kisses please."

"Very well, your highness," Breka murmurs and kisses his way from Loki's ear to his throat and down his neck. "May I?" he asks, his hand hovering over the first shirt button.

"You may. In fact I insist."

Breka's little laugh dies when he sees the hunger in Loki's eyes. Swallowing hard Breka focuses on the buttons. When the shirt falls open Breka's gaze travels down the prince's chest and stomach and then up at his face. Holding Loki's eyes Breka drops to his knees and opens Loki's belt.

"I think I need to sit down," Loki whispers.

"Well we wouldn't want you to fall would we?" Breka says with a grin and guides Loki towards the bed. The grin turns into a soft smile. "Sit, my prince," he says gently.

"Don't—"

"Shh."

"Did you just—"

"Yes, your highness Silvertongue, I did. You'll shut up and let me have my way."

"Fine," Loki says with a pout which is wiped off his face when Breka kneels again and presses his mouth to Loki's groin.

"I believe I like your way," Loki says, his head falling back.

Breka pulls away to look at him.

"_I_ believe I told you to shut up."

"I _remember _telling you I suck at taking orders."

"Apropos sucking," Breka grins and opens Loki's trousers.

"Uh-hu?"

"I do believe that is _my _part."

Which _effectively _shuts the prince up.


	18. scene 16ff

_Scene 16, later_

"Can you do the thing again?" Breka asks, turning to Loki who's lying next to him.

"What thing?"

"What you did after you knocked me out, to show me what your magic feels like."

"Your wish is my command."

Loki holds out his hand, golden light shimmering at his fingertips.

"It's beautiful," Breka says with a look of wonder.

Loki gently touches Breka's forehead, then runs his fingertips over Breka's temple and cheekbone. Breka closes his eyes with a soft moan.

"It feels like your soul is in that touch."

"My heart and soul are in _every_ touch. Whenever I touch you," Loki whispers against Breka's neck, bending down. He places a kiss behind Breka's ear and pulls back. "But I know what you mean. Some call it core, some call it essence. The traditional writings call it seidr."

"Do all your family have it?"

"My father doesn't. Thor does, but he never explored it beyond summoning thunder and lightning, or wielding Mjölnir." Loki lies back and stares at the ceiling. "At this court, magic only matters when it heals injured soldiers. But a wise king could make so much more use of it. Sorcerers should sit in the council. Or sorceresses. Have you noticed there isn't a single woman on the board?" Loki sighs. "If I was king I'd have very different council members. Also Asgard would have a head magician."

"Which would probably be you."

"Maybe. Maybe I'd find someone better suited than myself. But it won't happen. I have an older brother and the king very much favours him."

"Do you _like_ your brother?"

Loki snorts.

"He's so boring. Plain and—well let's say, not the brightest candle on the chandelier. I don't think he's ever had an original thought of his own. He just copies father. Always agrees with him. Sounds like him." He sighs again. "I mean, Mother and Father are usually a united front too, but I can still tell when she disagrees. She always finds a way to make Father reconsider, see things from a different perspective. But Thor..."

He's silent for a moment, and when he goes on his voice is pained.

"And still I wish he'd see me as his equal. Wish he'd respect me."

He takes a breath.

"I probably shouldn't be telling you any of that. Would you tell me about your family instead? About your sister?"

Breka starts smiling.

"I adored her. She was tall and fierce and smart... she wanted to be a valkyrie. To me she was. And whenever something happened to me, when I fell or hurt myself in some way, she always took care of me. She would have never said it but she loved me. And then she was gone, and Father too, and it was only Mother and me. She changed a lot after they died. I tried so hard to make her smile, tried to be like my sister, like Father..." He sighs. "Mother didn't approve of me becoming a soldier."

"She was probably afraid of losing you too."

Breka pulls Loki on top of him.

"She would love Asgard under King Loki I think. Less battles, more diplomacy."

"You might find yourself unemployed," Loki says with a grin.

"Oh I'd find things to occupy myself," Breka murmurs and starts kissing Loki's chest and neck.

* * *

_Scene17, the next morning_

It's still dark when Breka slips out of the bed, careful not to wake Loki, and puts on his armour. Eventually the prince stirs and opens one eye.

"Hey," he says with a smile, "There's way too much leather and metal on you. Not that I don't like it or anything..."

Breka chuckles and leans in for a gentle kiss.

"I'm off to duty."

Loki snuggles into the mattress, hugging the pillow.

"Do you mind if I stay for a little while longer?"

"Depends... are you hiding from a council meeting?"

"No. I just enjoy being here."

"Fine then. In that case I'll allow it. See you on the training court later?"

"Sure."

"You might wanna give my sister's sword a bit more practice beforehand."

"Uuuhhh, homework?"

"Just so you look like you know what you're doing."

* * *

_Scene 18, council meeting_

"All I'm trying to say is that there are other things to take into account than warfare," Loki says with as much patience as he can muster, "and I would like the council to enlist members from other fields of expertise. Healers. Scholars. Poets. Musicians."

"_Sorcerers,"_ Thor snarls, "like you?"

"Or mother," Loki shoots back. He takes a breath and looks at Odin, trying to determine the part of his suggestion that has the best chance of approval.

"Father, please. Nobody can deny the importance of the healers' work for example. Yes, it's part magic, but it's also part science. Haven't you said yourself that they are one and the same? I don't see how it would diminish Asgard's glory if we taught our children the basics of medicine. Which is one of the ideas I've been talking about with one of the healers. His name is Leif. He's still young, but he's good. Maybe he could speak at an upcoming council meeting, present to the council—"

"What's next, brother? Florists? Bakers? Why not open up the council to anyone who feels like dropping by? And why stop at Asgardians, maybe you want to bring your children's mother? What could she possibly teach—oh right, how to give birth to monsters?"

Loki jumps up from his seat with so much force that the heavy chair topples over, landing on the stone floor with a loud bang. In a second he's at his brother's throat.

"Don't you dare insult Angrboda."

"Or what?"

Thor just grins and plucks Loki from his collar as if he weighs nothing.

"Just teasing, little brother. You have such a temper."

Odin has been watching the whole exchange with a half smile. Now he stands.

"That's enough, both of you. Thor, I need you to stay. Loki, I expect you to make progress in your sessions with Breka. And I mean on the training court. The council is dismissed."

A few of the council members snicker at the all-father's Breka comment. Loki clenches his fists.

"What about my suggestion, father?"

"Council members remain as they have always been. I see no need to change what has been good enough for our forefathers for millennia."

"But, father—"

"You just don't know when to yield, do you?!" Odin roars.

Loki's jaw sets. He's so angry it might lead to tears of frustration, so he turns and storms out of the room, his father's annoyed grumbling following him until the heavy doors slam shut behind him. The guards flanking the doors look straight ahead, their faces unreadable, as Loki almost runs down the halls of the palace towards his quarters.

* * *

_Scene 19, Loki's quarters_

Loki is pacing, still furious. Breka is sitting in the chair at Loki's desk.

"I'm sorry it didn't go as you were hoping it would."

"It's just so frustrating! I mean why do I even attend those meetings? It's not like anyone actually wants my opinion an anything!"

Breka stays silent. There's nothing he can say. Loki stops pacing and turns to look at him.

"And it's so unfair towards Leif, and _stupid_! I mean he's brilliant, I don't think my father even realises how powerful he is, how smart, and they just _waste_ his talents!"

Breka gets up and steps in front of Loki, trying not to let on how intimidating he finds a furious prince of Asgard.

"Should I be jealous?"

"What?"

Loki looks utterly confused. Breka grins.

"The way you talk about Leif, my best friend, the man I introduced you to, I might get jealous!"

"Breka, please!"

Loki throws his hands up, but there's a tiny smile at the corner of his mouth. Breka stands close.

"Don't be angry. Let me distract you," he murmurs and kisses Loki's neck.

"You're impossible."

"I'm impossibly attracted to you."

Some of the tension leaves Loki's body, his shoulders relaxing, his fists unclenching.

"How do you do that? Make me feel better with just one kiss?"Loki murmurs, a smile sneaking into his voice.

"My own kind of magic," Breka says and drags his chin across Loki's neck. The prince shivers and tilts his head back, eyes closed.

"Wanna take off some of my leather and metal?" Breka whispers, and Loki takes a step back and lifts his hand.

"No. Do it the traditional way. I want your hands on me."

"Breka Borkason of the palace guard. You expect your prince to relieve you of your armour?"

Breka swallows but holds the eye contact.

"You know what that tone does to me, right? _Your highness_?"

"Oh I think I do," Loki purrs, starting to unbuckle Breka's uniform. He's taking his sweet time. After a few minutes Breka loses it.

"Fuck you, Loki, can you hurry up already?"

Loki chuckles, his warm breath teasing the soft skin on Breka's neck.

"Would you please make up your mind, darling mine?"

"Maybe I made a mistake when I dismissed the magical approach."

Breka is panting now. Loki raises an eyebrow.

"Admitting defeat, are we?"

"Yes, for Hel's sake, I admit. I'll say whatever you want if it just gets your hands on my bare skin."

Loki gives his lover his best mischievous grin.

"Whatever I want?"

A shiver runs down Breka's spine. He swallows again, self-conscious all of a sudden, and drops his gaze.

"Whatever you want, my lord," he whispers.

Loki lifts his chin.

"I want you—" he kisses Breka's cheekbone, "to tell me—" and jaw, "_exactly _what it is that you want me to do to you."

Breka's knees buckle. Loki catches him against his body.

"Steady, soldier. Hold your ground."

Loki locks eyes with Breka.

"Tell me. Be frank. Be brave. As brave as you are in the face of an enemy."

Breka swallows yet again. Loki gives him a smile. It's sweet and encouraging, so Breka asks:

"I… can I please look at you? Could you… magic away your own clothes? Please?"

"So you want me naked! As you wish," Loki says with a perfect bow, and when he straightens he's naked. It's not the first time Breka has seen him like this, but it still takes his breath away.

"You're glorious," Breka whispers and drops to his knees.

Loki just smiles down at him, not moving a muscle.

"Get _me_ fully naked too?" Breka asks.

"And how would you prefer I do that?"

"Fast."

Loki bursts out laughing and moves his hand.

"You are quite the sight yourself," he murmurs, taking a step closer. "Naked at my feet, so eager, so willing. But tell me. What do you want?"

"I can't do this, Loki, please. Please don't make me beg. Or demand. Please just give me what I need?"

Loki leans down to caress Breka's face.

"How can I know what you need, love? I mean it. Tell me."

And Breka does. Looking up at Loki he tells him everything, all the things he's dreamed about, everything he'd like to do to him, do for him, everything he's craving to have done to him. Loki hums with pleasure at Breka's words, revelling in his lover's arousal, the way Breka's voice breaks, the way he looks at Loki as if he's the centre of his universe. Eventually Breka falls silent, face flushed, insecure and embarrassed and scared he might have said the wrong thing, but Loki just drops to his knees as well, frames Breka's face with both hands and kisses him with all his heart.

"Now where do we start?"


	19. scene 20ff

_Scene 20, morning after_

Breka plays with the exquisite sheets, glancing sideways at the prince.

"What is this to you, Loki? You and me?"

Loki leans over and kisses him with abandon.

"I want you, Breka. I _need_ you."

Breka can barely look at Loki.

"You're number two in the line of succession to the throne of Asgard. You might very well rule this realm one day, and with it _all_ the realms. I'm just a soldier. I'd be a grain of sand beneath your boots. Why would you need _me_?"

"So that I'm not this lonely all the time."

Breka stares at him, unable to process that confession. Loki is obviously just as shocked by his own honesty. After a second he shrugs it off.

"And besides, it's highly unlikely I'll ever sit on that throne."

"The all-father hasn't assigned a successor yet, has he?"

Loki snorts.

"No," he says, voice suddenly dripping with acid, "He hasn't. The race is still open. The second son still has a chance to prove himself worthy."

Breka physically recoils from Loki's bitterness. He takes a breath.

"If you were king—"

"I won't be. Nobody wants me on that throne."

Breka looks at him for a long moment.

"Humour me," he says.

Loki sighs.

"Fine. If I was king then what?"

"What would you do? What kind of place would Asgard be under King Loki?"

"The arts would thrive, everyone could be who they really are, and council meetings wouldn't last more than ten minutes."

Breka chuckles.

"Are they always that bad?"

"I need every ounce of self-restraint not to be constantly rolling my eyes."

Breka grins.

"I can so see that."

He turns serious after a moment. Leaning in for a kiss he murmurs:

"I really liked the part about everyone being themselves though."

Loki kisses him back.

"My brother is an idiot, and I don't think he'll make a good king any time soon, but I don't want this throne."

"I don't believe you."

"Why should I lie to you?"

"Maybe you're lying to yourself. About what you want. And maybe you don't know as much as you think about what the _people of Asgard_ want."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Breka shrugs and gives Loki a long, slow kiss.

"Maybe you just don't know the right people."

"I don't get..."

Breka is kissing his way down Loki's chest.

"There _are _people who'd rather see _you_ on the throne than Thor. Rather than Odin even."

Loki tenses.

"That's treason."

Breka looks up at him.

"What, since when is having an opinion a crime in this realm?"

He picks up where he left, trailing his tongue across Loki's stomach. The prince lets his head fall back and closes his eyes.

"No more talk of politics in this bed", he murmurs, and Breka is happy to comply.

* * *

_Scene 21_

Uta looks at her son.

"So what do you think?"

Breka squirms.

"I think that I'm highly uncomfortable, mother. He trusts me. We shouldn't be talking about him."

"So just tell me yes or no. Are we doing the right thing in endorsing Loki? Will his rule bring peace through diplomacy instead of the battles we'd get under a king Thor?"

Breka shakes his head.

"I'm not sure. I honestly don't know."

"Do you need more time? Do you know how much time we have?"

Breka shakes his head again.

"I think Odin doesn't know himself."

"Well that sounds like we do have some time. Just find out what you can. Then tell me what you think. And get the horse's hair when you get a chance, just in case. I already did my part. The queen hasn't noticed that the magnifying crystal is missing. And Leif says he's ready."

* * *

_S__cene 2__2_

Breka is alone in his quarters, debating what to do. He decides that it can't hurt to do the easy part. Just in case. He goes to the stables, and nobody pays attention to him. He's there often, so nobody is suspicious, but the closer he gets to the right box the more nervous he becomes. He takes a deep breath. This is Prince Thor's horse after all. But there's nobody close by. Breka pulls his knife from his sleeve.

Back at his quarters he hides the strand of hair he cut from the mane of Thor's horse and closes his eyes. _Are we doing the right thing? Am _I _doing the right thing? _He takes the hair out of its hiding place again. He doesn't want it here. The idea of Loki being in the same room as the thing that might kill his brother is unbearable. Breka takes it to his mother's house. She just nods and kisses his cheek.

"I'll pass it on to Leif together with the magnifier."

She walks over to her cupboard and takes a pale crystal from it.

"It's going to amplify Leif's power at least tenfold. Do you want to take a look?"

"No!"

Breka takes a breath.

"No. I don't. Mother I'm still not sure..."

Uta puts the horse's hair away and comes back to him.

"I am. From here on out you have no part in this. Your conscience is clear. As far as I'm concerned you can end it with the prince."

"What? No!"

"Unless you want to be with him when he steps up to the throne," she says with a smile.

"That's not the point! He'd have to take a wife anyway. But that's not… I like him, mother! I really like him."

Uta looks at her son with affection.

"I see. So don't end it. Stay with him and be happy. I just recommend no political talks from now on."

Breka lies awake in his quarters, unable to come to a conclusion. He doesn't want this thing with Loki to end. How would he even explain…

_Breka pulls back from Loki's kiss, and the prince looks at him quizzically._

"_You're not in the mood, huh?"_

_Breka straightens and forces a smile._

"_No it's fine."_

_Loki shakes his head._

"_Breka, you don't owe me anything."_

"_You're my prince!"_

"_Not here. Nothing is going to happen if you tell me no."_

_Breka takes a deep breath._

"_What if I told you we can't go on?"_

_Loki stares at him for a moment._

"_I'd ask what I did wrong. Is there anything I can do differently? Do you need me to be more discreet?"_

"_You did nothing wrong. I'm just uncomfortable with you—being who you are."_

_Loki doesn't say anything for a long moment. Eventually he says:_

"_I see," and turns away, walking out of Breka's life._

Breka wakes up with his chest aching. The idea of losing Loki is causing him physical pain. He takes a breath. Decision made then. He'll stay with his prince, throne or no throne.

* * *

_Scene 2__3__, __a few nights later, __Loki's quarters_

"My prince," Breka says with adoration.

"Don't call me that. Not when we're alone."

"Why not? It's a way to express my respect, and my loyalty. And besides, it says that you're mine."

Loki stares at him, and then he starts to laugh.

"_That_ is a good point."

He kisses Breka and is still grinning when they part.

"All right then, keep calling me that."

"I mean it. You're mine. I'm yours. I belong to you."

After that they stay silent for a long time, but Breka senses that something is wrong. When Loki doesn't say anything Breka finally asks:

"What is it?"

"It's nothing. I'm fine," Loki says with a bit too much cheer.

"Don't lie to me. Please. There's no need. Is it something I did?"

"What? No, it's nothing to do with you."

"Then what?"

Loki goes very still. Breka gives him a gentle kiss.

"Please," he breathes.

"It doesn't make any sense."

"What? What doesn't?"

Loki closes his eyes. Breka kisses his temple.

"Please," he says again, even more softly. Eyes still closed Loki says:

"Sometimes I get scared."

"What do you mean?"

"Halfway through a council meeting, or a banquet, or a fight with my father, or listening to Thor being a fool, or even alone in my quarters, I get scared. All of a sudden, out of the blue."

"Scared of what?"

"Scared of falling. Scared of dying. Scared that something horrible is about to happen. Scared that someone might tear the mask off my face and expose my true colours."

"What do you mean your true colours?"

"I don't know! I told you it didn't make any sense."

He heaves a sigh.

"Maybe I'm just losing my mind. Like—last night I dreamed of my father. He was getting closer and closer and suddenly his face was distorted with hate, and fear, and disgust, and I couldn't for the life of me remember what I'd done wrong. I woke up in cold sweat, scared to death."

"King Odin is a hard man. I imagine he's not the most... approachable father."

Breka gently traces Loki's jawline.

"Do you think a healer might be able to help you? I'm not sure if they can do anything about pains of the soul, but maybe—do you want me to talk to Leif?"

"I don't need a healer. The person who can heal my soul is right here with me."

Breka smiles at him, unsure what to say. Loki reaches out and locks eyes with him.

"Like fog clearing away when the sun comes out. That's how I feel when you smile at me."

"You're so poetic tonight."

Loki briefly glances at an open journal on his desk. Breka follows his gaze.

"Wait did you prepare that? You wrote it down earlier and now you've quoted it?"

Loki averts his eyes.

"Are you blushing?! I don't think anyone has ever seen Loki Odinson blush—and lived to tell."

"Stop it."

Breka lifts Loki's chin.

"Look at me."

Loki still avoids the eye contact.

"Hey, please."

When Loki finally lifts his eyes Breka is blown away by the depth of Loki's emotions. He's open and vulnerable and completely raw, and Breka pulls him into a tight hug.

"I'm sorry," Breka murmurs. "I didn't mean to put you on the spot."

After a while Loki relaxes into the embrace.

"It's fine. And you were right. I did write about you."

"Can I hear it? If I promise not to be an idiot about it, would you read it to me?"

* * *

_Scene __2__4__, Frigga's quarters_

"What can I do for you, my son?"

"Tell me about memory spells."

Frigga blinks once.

"I don't think there's anything I could teach you that you don't already know."

"I don't mean how to perform them. I mean how to detect them."

Frigga pours herself a cup of wine, gesturing to Loki, but he shakes his head. Frigga takes a sip.

"Have I never taught you that? There's always a trace. A loose thread that unravels if you know where to look."

"Yes, I remember. You told me that if there's nothing to be found, it means that the person's memory is clear. Untempered with."

"Correct."

"Or maybe it just means the sorcerer who tries to detect it isn't as powerful as the one who installed it."

Frigga averts her eyes for a moment. Then she straightens.

"Why are you asking?"

Loki heaves a sigh.

"I'm not sure. I get these—conditions. Sometimes. As if the fabric of reality is tearing apart."

He pauses.

"Sorry. Overly dramatic?"

"A little."

Frigga smiles at her younger son with affection.

"Tell me."

And Loki does. He tells his mother about the creeping fear he sometimes feels out of nowhere, the disorientation, the feeling of being lost. The queen listens to him, trying to comfort him as best she can, and in the end she pulls him into a hug that he clings to a lot longer than she expected.


	20. scene 25ff

_Scene 25_

"Odin, we have to tell him. We should have told him ages ago."

"No."

"He's become so powerful. He's starting to suspect something."

"More powerful than you?"

An icy chill runs down Frigga's spine. Odin doesn't even try to veil the meaning behind his question. He's a warrior assessing a threat. She shakes her head.

"No. But more powerful than I was when—when he was young."

Odin nods.

"So you're still capable of controlling him."

Frigga winces at the phrasing, but she says "Yes," hoping with all her heart that it's true.

"Then make sure you fix the problem."

"Odin!"

"He will not know!"

* * *

_Scene 26_

Frigga enters Loki's quarters with a smile. He looks up from the book he's reading and returns the smile.

"I've been thinking, about what you told me."

Loki puts the book away.

"I think I know how to help you."

"That's good! What do you suggest?"

"First of all I need you to lay down."

"Sure."

Loki gets comfortable on his bed and looks up at his mother who sits down next to him.

"Close your eyes."

He does, but he's tense.

"What—"

"Trust me," Frigga says and reaches into the sleeve of her dress. She pulls out a crystal and holds it to Loki's forehead. The moment it touches his skin his eyes fly open.

"I'm sorry, my dear son," Frigga murmurs as her magic overpowers his and his body goes slack. His eyes are closed now, but it's not sleep. It's something a lot darker and more powerful, and entirely more dangerous. Frigga puts the crystal down and wipes at her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she says once more, and then she conjures Loki's core. The sphere rising from his chest turns in the air, blue and green, white and golden. Frigga frowns and focuses her energy on it. Very slowly the blue disappears and the green becomes darker, richer. The white battles the gold but finally disappears as well. Frigga pauses for a moment, swaying slightly with exhaustion. She takes a deep breath and makes a last effort, and the golden streaks become thicker, surrounding the green more tightly. The sphere sinks back into Loki's still body. Frigga sags. She sits on her son's bed, slumped and spent. Eventually she straightens and stands, murmuring a memory spell. When she sees the tension on Loki's face she adds a few words. His features relax and he looks so peaceful, young and innocent that she's tempted to kiss his forehead like she used to do when he was little. But she doesn't. Instead she whispers: "Oh my sweet darling. The things we have done to you." Tears streaming freely now she adds: "At least now you can rest a little."

* * *

_Scene 2__7__, __a few days later_

Loki and Frigga are sharing breakfast in her garden. As lightly as possible she asks:

"How are you feeling today?"

He knows what she means.

"I'm good. It hasn't happened since we talked. Maybe talking helped."

She hides behind her tea cup for a moment.

"Maybe. And don't forget the power of the healing hug."

Loki smiles at her.

"Yes, that too. Thank you, mother."

Frigga forces herself to return his smile.

"You're welcome, son."

* * *

_Scene 28, a few days later_

Leif is sitting cross-legged, hidden from view, on a mountain top overlooking a narrow path that runs along a steep cliff. At the food of the cliff there's a meadow and a small river. The healer is preparing for a spell he has used a hundred times before as part of a patient's treatment. Only this time he will have to do it over a distance. He takes the magnifying crystal Uta took from the queen in one hand and the strand of hair Breka cut off Thor's horse in the other and waits.

It doesn't take long for Thor and the Warriors Three to appear on that narrow path. Thor leads them, spurring his horse to a full gallop. His friends shake their heads but follow him as they always do. Leif waits until Thor is directly underneath him, then he focuses his magical energy on Thor's horse through the crystal, forming a connection, and pictures the horse's muscles straining beneath its skin. A moment later all of the horse's muscles relax at the exact same time.

Fandral looks up to the mountain top when he sees movement out of the corner of his eye. He halts his horse and turns to tell the others. They have stopped as well, staring over the edge of the cliff in horror. Fandral turns back just in time to see both Thor and his horse hit the ground at the foot of the cliff.

When the Warriors Three get down there, the horse is dead and Thor is unconscious. They get him back to the palace and to the healers as fast as they can. It turns out he broke a dozen bones and cracked his skull, but he will recover.

"How did this happen?", Sif wants to know.

The Warriors Three look at each other, but the only thing they remember is the horse tumbling in mid gallop.

"I think I saw something," Fandral says haltingly.

"Speak!" Sif demands.

"I'm not sure, to be honest, everything happened so fast."

"Tell me."

"I think there might have been somebody there, above us, on the mountain top."

"You think someone _caused _this?" Odin joins in.

"I have no way of being sure, all-father, but I suspect."

When Thor comes to he says he felt his horse go slack under him at full speed. Odin is furious. He's convinced that somebody attempted to murder his son. Possibly using magic. But every sorcerer capable of a spell like that has an alibi. Including Loki, who was training with Breka.

* * *

_Scene 29_

"The spell worked, the horse is dead, but Thor is hard to kill", Leif says in a hushed voice when he returns the magnifying crystal to Uta. "Return it to the queen's chambers as soon as possible. We'll have to lay low for a while. Regroup. Are you sure she didn't notice?"

"Yes, I am. But you're right, the king suspects magic, so we have to be very careful. We shouldn't meet for a while."

Leif just nods and slips out the door, making sure nobody sees him.

* * *

_Scene 30_

Odin gathers his family at Thor's bedside. The all-father stays silent until all eyes are on him. He looks from Thor to Loki to Frigga. When she meets his gaze he smiles softly at her. And then he squares his shoulders.

"My sons, there are a few things I have to tell you. I am old, and as we've just witnessed the royal family is vulnerable and not as strong as it should be. One of you will follow me on the throne in a not too distant future, and you will both take a wife."

Loki's head jerks up.

"What? I am not getting married! Thor? Are you going to comment on this?"

Thor doesn't look at him, but there's a slight smile on his face. _Sif. They will let him marry Sif. Of course. Thor gets to marry his best friend and not so secret crush. _Loki doesn't remember anyone asking _him__—_Odin interrupts his train of thoughts.

"You are princes. You need wives and sons."

"But—why—who?! Whom would I marry?"

"Your mother and I have discussed this. Arrangements have been made."

"What?!"

Odin sighs.

"We are willing to tolerate your… dalliances, but you _will_ marry Sigyn."

"Sigyn?! She doesn't even like me!"

"You need a wife, not a soulmate. Her family is acceptable and she's beautiful and charming. The people will like her."

Loki can't believe it, but when he turns to his mother she just smiles at him. It's all settled then. He doesn't get a say. Loki consciously forces his anger down.

"Can I be excused, father?"

Odin nods. Loki gives his mother a small bow, ignores his father and idiot brother and flees to Breka's quarters.

* * *

_Scene 31_

When Loki tries to talk to Breka about Thor he doesn't get the reaction he expected. In fact he doesn't get much of a reaction at all. He makes another attempt:

"Someone tried to murder my brother! Your future king!"

Breka sighs.

"I'm glad they didn't succeed. But I can see their point."

Loki stares at him.

"What? How can you say that?!"

Breka takes a deep breath and looks straight into Loki's eyes.

"Because I love you, and because the throne should be yours."

Loki lifts his chin. When he answers Breka, his voice is a shard of ice, low, barely more than a whisper, and absolutely lethal.

"You'd force a stolen crown upon my head, drenched in my brother's blood, and dare speak of love?"

Breka's jaw sets.

"You're better suited to be king."

Loki hits him, back handed, swift, brutal. The unexpected blow sends Breka flying.

"That's not for you to judge, let alone enforce!" Loki yells, furious, eyes blazing, magical energy still sizzling at his hands. Breka sits up, refusing to back down in spite of the blood dripping from his lip.

"You said it yourself, and more than once!"

Loki stares at his lover for a long time, and then he deflates. He moves over and squats down.

"I never wanted the throne, Breka. I would _guide_ Thor, standing at his shoulder, counselling, controlling his temper. But like this? Stepping up to a throne that's covered in my brother's blood, that's never what I wanted!"

"But will you do it?"

Loki stares at him.

"If by whatever circumstances Thor should—"

"Enough."

Loki straightens to his full height. He's all prince now.

"I will not hear any more of this. My brother the prince is your future king and I will not tolerate any insolence against him. Should I learn about any further attempts to move against Thor, and should I have reason to suspect that you are part of it, then may the norns help you."

Breka is staring at him unable to say anything. Loki sighs.

"You're not doing me any favours, Breka. I don't want this."

Breka stands up but refuses to look at Loki.

"Have I made myself clear?"

Breka is still avoiding eye contact. Loki takes Breka's face between his hands, a firm grip on his lover's skull. Breka closes his eyes and gives in, leaning into the touch.


	21. scene 32ff

_Scene 32_

"My Lord!"

Breka's comrade on duty shoots him an apologetic glance and sinks to one knee before Loki.

"Your brother, the prince, my lord—is dead."

"What?"

Loki rushes out of his quarters and towards the healers' ward. Breka is frozen. How could that—Thor's injuries were bad, but lethal? Strong, mighty Thor? He wants nothing more than to be at Loki's side, but he's unsure he'd even be allowed in. This is family business. Royal family business. His mind starts to race. With Thor out of the way—he feels a small pang of guilt over the phrasing—Loki will be named heir to the throne. Everything they've dreamed of will become reality now. King Loki.

* * *

_Scene 33_

When he arrives at the door to the healers' wards, the comrade standing guard there shakes his head.

"I'm sorry, Breka. I can't let you enter."

Breka nods.

"I thought as much. Is there anything you can tell me?"

"What do you know?"

"That prince Thor is dead."

"That's about as much as I know."

"Who's in there?"

"The royal family—the king and queen, Prince Loki… and Lady Sif."

Heels click on the stone floor. The guard turns.

"My lady," he says and opens the door for Sigyn.

Him and Breka exchange a glance.

"She's our future queen," Breka hisses.

"And isn't she aware of that," the guard shoots back.

Breka closes his eyes for a moment.

"When the prince comes out, will you tell him..."

The guard looks at Breka.

"Never mind," he murmurs and turns to leave.

* * *

_Scene __3__4__, __Loki's quarters_

Breka gently kisses Loki and pulls him into a hug.

"I'm sorry for your loss, my prince."

Loki closes his eyes, looking entirely spent.

"I wish I could have seen you sooner," Breka says softly.

"Things are going to be very different now," the prince answers, his voice neutral.

Breka's heart misses a beat.

"I am aware of that," he says carefully, scared of what Loki is going to say next. But the prince stays silent.

"Can you tell me what happened?"

"My brother died."

"I know that. But—how? I thought the healers said he'd make a full recovery."

Loki snorts.

"I'm pretty sure they did what they could. In fact they might have done a little more than necessary."

Breka's eyes widen.

"What do you mean?"

"You know perfectly well what I mean."

Loki's stare becomes threatening.

"_Your close friend_ Leif was on duty. If there's anything you have to tell me, better tell me now while I might still be able to protect you."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," Loki says, his voice like ice, "that my brother, the prince, heir to the throne of Asgard, would still be alive and recovering from his injuries, if the healers had done what they were supposed to do. Instead someone made sure he would _not_ recover. My father suspects they had a complicit amongst the palace guard, and possibly others amongst the palace staff."

His voice changes.

"Please look at me and tell me you had nothing to do with it."

Breka desperately tries to keep his face blank. He sinks to his knees.

"I swear to you, my prince, on my mother's life, that I'm innocent. Loki, please!"

Loki straightens.

"Your mother's life might not be worth as much as you think."

"What?"

Breka turns pale.

"Loki!"

"She was arrested along with Leif. And I'm not sure I believe you."

He turns, leaving Breka still kneeling and shaking all over.

"I have a brother to bury," he says over his shoulder.

* * *

_Scene 35_

Loki sits on the throne, his face set in stone, as he watches the executioner step forward. Beside him Sigyn reaches for his hand. He freezes, tempted to pull his hand away, but quenches the impulse in time. He gives her a grim smile.

"Being a benevolent king doesn't mean you can't execute justice, my lord," she says. "In fact I think it is a crucial part of it."

Loki forces himself to look ahead at Breka's mother Uta and his best friend Leif, both in chains, pale but resolved. On Loki's other side he can feel his mother lean in slightly.

_I'm sorry you have to do this_, he hears her voice in his head.

_With father in the Odin-sleep, I have no choice_, he answers her in kind before shielding his mind from her. He nods at the executioner, and the man lifts his axe. Loki's first order of business is an execution.

The axe falls, twice, and Loki tastes bile in his throat. He refuses to look at his wife, knowing all too well what expression he'd find on her face. She's the one person amongst the traitors he can't punish. There's no proof linking her to Leif and Uta, and the people love her. A lot more than they love their future king.


	22. scene 36ff

_Scene 36_

Loki lets go of Breka's head. Breka is staring at him wide-eyed and confused.

"This," Loki says, his voice grave, each word carefully stressed. "This is what happens if you force that crown on my head, you and yours. The people you love most, executed by my hand. Yourself in exile, _if_ I can manage to get you out of Asgard in time. Me confined to the palace on a throne I don't want, ruling a kingdom that doesn't want _me_, more alone than I have ever been. We could never see each other again. Please don't do that to me, Breka. Please."

Breka nods slowly, still overwhelmed by the vision Loki showed him.

"So real," he whispers.

Loki enfolds him in his embrace.

"I'm sorry. I know it has to be unsettling, but I had to make sure you understood what's at stake. Did you?"

Breka pulls himself together.

"Yes. I did. I do."

Loki lets out a breath.

"Now let me see this."

He gently touches Breka's jaw. A pale light flickers over the still bleeding cut in his lip, and then the injury is gone. So is the blood. Loki leans in.

"I'm sorry," he whispers.

"I probably deserved it."

"Still I shouldn't have hit you."

"Maybe next time you just turn me into a frog or something?"

Loki chuckles and sobs at the same time, and then he closes the distance and kisses Breka. When Loki breaks the kiss he rests his forehead against Breka's.

"You don't want me on the throne anyway."

Breka frowns at him.

"I don't?"

Loki starts to grin.

"If I was king I'd have to have a queen."

"I don't mind who shares your throne as long as you let me share your bed."

Loki moves in for another kiss, a lot fiercer than the first one. Breka responds in kind.

"Always," Loki pants. "Until Naglfar appears on the horizon and the nine realms erupt in flame."

"Until Ragnarok?"

"Until Ragnarok," Loki confirms.

* * *

_Scene 37_

Breka goes to see his mother the next morning.

"We have to abandon that plan, mother," he tells her urgently.

Uta nods.

"I know. I've already returned the crystal. Leif agrees with you. We'll have to be careful for a while."

"No!" He grabs her shoulders. "I mean abandon it once and for all! It's wrong, and it would be our downfall. It would lead to nothing but pain, believe me. You have to believe me."

Uta looks at her son as if she's seeing him for the first time, and a shudder runs down her spine. Almost against her will she nods.

"So be it."

Breka is so relieved he feels dizzy for a moment. He pulls his mother against his chest and kisses the top of her head. He stays in her house for a long time, and they talk about his father and sister and what Asgard would be like if they had a say, and for the first time Uta asks him questions about Loki that have nothing to do with whether or not he's suited to be king and everything to do with how Breka feels about him.

* * *

_Scene 38_

Being as strong as he is, Thor fully recovers from his injuries surprisingly fast, and Odin is just as fast in his decision to officially name him heir to the throne.

_From here on out this story follows the plot of__ "Thor" __for a while.__ I __won't retell it because_

_a) I __think it's safe to assume you've seen i__t, and_

_b) I couldn't do it better than it was written and acted._

* * *

_Scene 39, Coronation (in which Thor fakes humbleness and swears to protect peace *cough*)_

* * *

_Scene __40__, __Frost__ Giants in t__he vault_

* * *

_Scene 41, in which Loki masterfully manipulates Thor into going to Jotunheim_

* * *

_Scene 42, Jotunheim (where Thor's pride provokes a war that neither Loki's nor Odin's attempt at diplomacy can prevent)_

* * *

_Scene 43, in which Odin banishes Thor, ignoring and dismissing Loki in the process, as usual_

* * *

_Scene 44_

Loki leans against a stone wall, tilts his head back and closes his eyes. He can feel tears sting but refuses to shed them. He's terrified. Odin yelling at them—well usually him, but sometimes Thor too—isn't anything new. And he did want Thor to look as idiotic as he really is, but watching their father rip away everything that _made_ his brother _Thor_ shook Loki to the core. So many times Loki wondered what being an only child would be like; if it would be easier to win his father's love if there was no competition. And now Thor is gone and Loki feels weirdly unprotected, as if his brother's absence makes their father even scarier than he is anyway. Now the tears spill from his still closed eyes. This isn't what he wanted. He considers turning to his mother, trying to get her to talk to the all-father, but he knows it's pointless. He takes a breath and pushes off the wall. Pain shoots through his shoulder and he remembers being stabbed by one of those eerie ice daggers. And then he remembers something else. He lifts his hand and looks at it. It looks perfectly normal now in the golden light of the palace. Was what he saw on Jotunheim a trick of the light? But there is no burn mark either where the frost giant grabbed him. Loki can feel a chill down his spine, as if a cold draught has passed him. He focuses on the pain in his shoulder and sends all the energy he can spare into his injury. The pain ebbs away. Better. He wanders, aimlessly, until he finds himself at the doors to his father's vault. Something draws him there, not just the curiosity he's always felt since he was a little boy, but something stronger, darker. He opens the doors and walks down the aisle, coming to a halt before an artefact that emits a bright blue light. It _screams_ Jotun, and he can't take his eyes off it.

* * *

_Scene 45, THAT vault scene_

_Tom Hiddleston deserves **all the awards** for his "Tell me!" speech and I will stay a mile away from rewriting it. But you might wanna go and rewatch it. I'll wait._


	23. scene 46ff

_Scene 46_

"Guards!"

The two men take Odin away, but Loki can't bring himself to follow. _J__otun. I'm Jotun, not Asgardian. _He realises it must have been Frigga who disguised him, changed him, turned him into something suitable to Odin's plan. "I'm a monster," he whispers, staring at his hands as if he expects them to turn blue. And then, in one horrible, brutal moment, he realises that he has nothing. No family, no place, no purpose. His mind is racing, but at the same time he feels completely blank. Hollow. Empty.

There is only one person he can think of right now. He has no idea what to tell him, but he needs to find Breka. Loki feels so lost and vulnerable, so hungry for a kind word, and Breka will be ready to provide that. _Dear beloved Breka._ He's always ready to provide what Loki needs, always willing to make him feel better. Yes. Find Breka and try to forget about everything. Flee into Breka's strong arms and to his gentle mouth, and maybe, just maybe, if Loki is brave enough to tell the truth, Breka can find it in his heart to love a monster.

* * *

_Scene 47_

Loki finds his lover in his quarters. Modest as they are, they are a safe place, warm and peaceful, more so than his own, more luxurious ones, and Breka doesn't fail him. He takes one look at the prince and pulls him into his arms. Loki tries to suppress the little moan of pain that escapes him but of course Breka noticed. He pulls back and looks at Loki's face.

"What's wrong?"

_Where do I start?_ Loki thinks but decides to go for the most obvious answer.

"I was injured and didn't have time to heal myself yet," he says, carefully shrugging out of his leathers and shirt. He sits down on Breka's bed to examine his shoulder.

"What happened?"

Breka comes closer and looks at the injury. Loki is too busy focusing his energy to notice the expression on Breka's face. Only when Breka grabs Loki's good shoulder does he look up.

"Hey! What—"

Breka is so pale that Loki drops what he's doing and focuses on Breka instead.

"Breka? What is it?"

"What. Happened?" Breka forces out, barely able to get his voice to work, eyes glued to the nasty slash in Loki's shoulder.

"Like I said, I was injured."

"Who did this? _What_ did this?"

Loki squints his eyes.

"Why are you so upset?"

Breka brushes his fingertips along the injury.

"Because I've seen this before," he whispers, eyes wide. He's terrified. Loki feels an echo of that chill again. He tries to sound casual.

"Have you?"

Breka stares at him, and for a moment it looks as if he's about to shake sense into Loki. And then his eyes fill with tears.

"Breka, please, you're scaring me to death! What is it?"

"How can you possibly have been injured by—"

Breka looks at Loki, pleading, blinking against the tears.

"Please tell me what happened. If I'm not supposed to know I swear I won't say a word to anyone, or you can erase my memory or whatever you need to do but please for all that is sacred tell me what happened to you!"

Loki takes a breath.

"We went to Jotunheim."

"What?!"

"It's a long story. Anyway, we had to fight them and I was stabbed by one of their ice things. I swear I didn't feel the weapon, only later when I moved my shoulder I realised I had been stabbed." _And then my skin turned blue. _He can't bring himself to say that. He can't look into Breka's eyes either. When he finally does look at him, Breka's face is completely blank and he's staring at nothing. Loki carefully touches Breka's arm.

"Breka? Did you hear me?"

"I've seen this kind of injury before", Breka repeats his earlier words. "Daggers, or swords, or whatever they are, made from ice, slicing through flesh as if it was water."

"When did you fight a frost giant?"

"I didn't. I was eight. We just—mother and I found them."

"Who? Breka, you're not making sense."

Eventually Breka looks at Loki, tears running down his face. _I've never seen him cry nor did I ever expect to_, Loki thinks with a shudder. He gently wipes at Breka's cheeks.

"You were eight. What happened?" he says softly.

"Frost giants came to our village. Only two or three, I don't know why or how. My mother and I had gone to the forest, berry picking I think. When we came back nobody was left alive. The neighbours, the children I used to play with… by the time we made it to our house my mother was running as fast as she could. I had trouble keeping up with her. And then we found them. My father dead on the ground in front of his forge, wounds like this—"

He gestures at Loki's shoulder and heaves a sigh.

"And my sister, frozen, the slender blade father had made for her raised high above her head, ready to strike—but that strike never fell. She died trying to protect him, terrified, probably unable to move even before they froze her heart. She was fourteen."

Loki feels like he can't breathe. He's dizzy and nauseous and about to be sick with horror. Guided by a horribly twisted, perverse morbidity he forces himself to state it.

"Frost giants killed your family."

"Yes. There is no fighting them."

Loki speaks before he can think it through, reciting what he's been taught, as if his voice works against his will, flat and without emotion.

"According to legend King Odin did fight—and defeat—them. They were sent back to their world, never to return. Thor and I have heard that story a million times."

Breka's face is a mask of disgust now.

"Only they _did r_eturn. And that's not legend. But they probably don't teach you that in the golden halls. In the grand scheme of things I guess a blacksmith and his daughter don't count."

Breka lets out a shaky breath.

"They are monsters, mindless and cruel, creatures made of cold and darkness and terror. They know no mercy, and they leave nothing but death and destruction in their wake."

Loki panics. He realises it's absolutely unthinkable to tell Breka what he is. Ever. Breka can't know the truth under any circumstances. Loki pulls up an invisible veil, fighting to appear calm, moulding his voice. _Work, Silvertongue!_

"I'm sorry, Breka, that was a stupid thing to say. I am so incredibly sorry for your loss, for what you had to go through, and at such a young age."

Breka's shoulders sag.

"I'm so relieved you escaped."

Kissing Loki between sobs he says:

"I'm sorry too. You did nothing wrong."

_Only I did. I led them here, trying to buy time, convinced I had everything under control. Now two guards are dead and we are on the brink of war. And the man I love has every reason to loathe me. If I showed him my true colours, he'd be looking at the face of the monster that killed his family. _Loki shrugs his clothes back into place, biting his tongue against the pain, determined to get his injury out of Breka's sight.

"What are you doing?"

"I realised this is beyond my abilities. I need a healer."

"I can go get Leif, or whoever is on duty."

"No, it's fine. It's just the shoulder, I can still walk."

Breka hesitates. _Please don't. Stay with me __tonight__. _What a selfish thing to say though, when Loki is obviously in pain, in need of he just nods and gives Loki another kiss. _Will you come back later? _Still selfish. The prince needs rest. The healers might even want to keep him there for the night. Loki kisses him back and slips out of the door, his boots making no sound on the stone floor. _He's always so light on his feet. _Breka strains his ears, trying to hear Loki's footsteps leading away from his door, but there's nothing.

* * *

_Scene 48_

In his quarters Loki lies down and heals his injury. It takes less than he thought. He rolls his shoulder a few times, and then he sits up and crosses his legs. He reaches into himself, to the part he has always considered "Loki". His magical core appears in front of his mind's eye as a green and golden sphere. He can feel something shift, like a shell cracking open. He recognises the feeling: he felt the same thing on Jotunheim, and then again when he held the casket. Now that he knows what to look for he can do it at will. The sphere is turning, and as Loki focuses on it, its golden streaks shimmer and then pale to a white so bright it's almost transparent. The rich vibrant green shifts to blue. He can feel his skin change and the markings appear, and he knows without looking in a mirror that his eyes have turned into a monster's. He considers staying in this form out of sheer defiance, but then he sneers. Yeah sure. Because being killed by Odin's guards would make such a point. His frustration makes his temper flare, and a flash of magical energy explodes from his hands. It looks different than it used to. It feels different, too. Colder, sharper, fiercer. And he enjoys it. Letting go of the brutal grip he's gotten used to keeping on himself and his powers, just for a second, is such a relief. He turns in a slow circle, looking for something to unleash his power on. Something that will burst and shatter with a satisfying amount of noise and messiness. He grinds his teeth. No. He has to get out of the palace, unseen, unnoticed. _That shouldn't be hard to do, just look like the useless second son. _He deliberately relaxes his muscles, searching inside his core for the part that is Asgardian. It feels so much like Frigga that his chest tightens for a moment. He shakes off the feeling and turns into the form she has created for him. Now where could he possibly go? He considers going to the stables for a horse, but the thought of running into—a guard… no.

* * *

_Scene 49_

Hidden in a dark corner Loki closes his eyes and shifts to bird form. He flaps his wings and takes off. The sensation of the air brushing his feathers brings a familiar feeling of liberation with it, allowing him to leave all the pain and frustration on the ground and rise above it. He's free. For a precious moment he's Loki, devoid of any connotations, just pure vitality. But soon enough the moment is over and he starts thinking about where he should go. Fly. He's cursing himself for not figuring that out beforehand. Thinking with a bird's brain never works that well… And then he realises what direction he's chosen. This course will lead him straight to Angrboda's house.

* * *

_Scene 50_

He lands on the tree in front of her house, then hops down from branch to branch and finally to the ground. Throwing up a veil and turning back into human form he stares at the light coming from her window. She's always welcomed him to her house—and her bed—even though she's made it perfectly clear that she has no intention of living with him. Or anyone, for that matter. He's never asked if she has other lovers. He straightens, glad to have come to a decision. Her house won't be a place to stay, but it can provide shelter for a while. And Angrboda herself might just be the right person—the only person actually—to confess his true nature to.

* * *

_Scene 51_

Loki is sitting in Angrboda's kitchen like so many times before, and she's currently trying to process what he's just told her.

"You're a frost giant."

"Apparently."

He pulls his knees up and wraps his arms around them, making himself as small as possible. His voice is shaky and hushed, and he's not looking at her.

"It's all been one big scam. I'm not Asgardian. My family isn't my family. I'm not a prince. I'm the enemy, and I'm a monster."

She pushes her chair back and stands, leaning on the table.

"A monster? According to whom, your Asgardian upbringing? You do realise history is written by the victorious, don't you? My own folk aren't exactly loved by the Asgardians either."

"I've never heard anyone refer to an _earth giant_ as a monster," he snaps.

"Well we don't usually go around kill—" She catches herself when he flinches. "I'm sorry. I'm just saying you and I might be more alike than we thought."

She squats down beside him.

"Show me. Turn."

"No."

"Please."

She raises and steps behind him, putting her hands on his shoulders.

"Please."

The room falls completely silent, and then she draws in a breath and takes a few steps back when he complies, straightening, standing, turning to look at her. She swallows, fascinated by his gleaming eyes and the markings on his face. Gaze still locked with his she comes back to him and extends her hand. He glances down at her hand on his chest, velvet cinnamon on icy blue. He can tell his skin is burning hers, but she doesn't pull away.

"Ice so cold it feels like fire," she whispers.

Finally she does break the contact and studies the burn marks on her palm.

"Water and Earth, creating Fire."

She looks into his eyes again.

"You're so much more of a prince now than you've ever been before."

"You faked appreciation for my Asgardian form quite convincingly."

"Oh I'm so not complaining about the _form._ It's just that I never quite understood what attracted me to an Asgardian princeling. But it all makes sense now. _This_ is so much more my type."

She brushes her fingertips over the markings on his forehead.

"You're beautiful, Loki, and oh, the power you possess! I can feel it, like a wave rolling off of you. You have the purest Jotun magic at your disposal, layered with what your Asgardian mother taught you. They are intertwined, refining each other like an alloy of two metals forming unbreakable steel. If you choose to take the throne, either one of the two you're entitled to, you'll rule with an iron grip. Odin is weak, and Laufey failed to see your potential. But _you_'d make a _glorious_ king."

Loki withdraws from her touch.

"I don't understand why everybody wants me on a throne all of a sudden. What's in it for you?"

She straightens to her full height.

"I want nothing for myself. My door will be open for you to come and go as you please, just as it always has been."

"Nothing for yourself, but—?"

"I expect you to acknowledge our children."

"Expect, do you?"

"Yes. They can enforce your rule on land and at sea, not to mention the underworld—and _this _child will master the sky."

She puts her hand on her stomach in the universal gesture of all mothers.

"Wait, what?"

Loki shifts back and covers her hand with his. For a few heartbeats there's a sound like wings flapping, and then it's gone. Loki locks eyes with Angrboda.

"It's true. You're expecting."

* * *

_Scene 52_

Later, after they have gone to bed, Loki puts his hand on Angrboda's stomach once more and whispers:

"What am I to you?"

There's a quip on the tip of her tongue, but when she sees the pain in his eyes her own gaze softens.

"Father of my children, friend, ally, comrade, lover. And, like I said, always welcome under my roof."

He gives her a small smile.

"Thank you for granting me shelter and protection. I'm aware of your rules. One night."

Angrboda gently traces his jawline.

"Your whole existence just shattered. I think I can make an exception."

He understands her immediately, and relief floods his whole body.

"Thank you. It won't be for long, I promise. Just a little while, to rest and to regroup. I won't forget your kindness and generosity."

She lies back.

"I will go hunt tomorrow. Would you come with me?"

"You don't need my help hunting. If anything I'll slow you down."

"I'm expecting our son as well."

Loki sits up.

"Fenris goes hunting with you?"

"Not very often, maybe once a month."

He lies back down with a smile on his face.

"Very well, I'll join you. I can't expect you to share your kill with me, can I? So I better earn my keep."

Angrboda grins.

"Do you remember your training?"

"I think I do although I might be a bit rusty."

He shifts and heaves a sigh.

"But I will be of no use to you and our son if I don't rest."

"Will you be able to sleep?"

"I'm not sure."

"Remember how I taught you to control your breathing?"

"While taking aim? Yes, why? Wanna go over my bow and arrow lessons?"

She chuckles.

"I hope that won't be necessary. But it can serve as a meditation as well. Steady your breath, slow down your heart, bring your mind to a standstill. Give your soul some rest."

He relaxes his muscles and focuses on his breathing, and eventually he becomes calmer. Turning towards her he murmurs:

"Thank you, Angrboda."

She just smiles and gently kisses his temple, and then she pulls him into her arms, and he feels safe enough with her to finally let down his guard and fall asleep.

* * *

_Scene __53_

Angrboda plays with the fur blanket covering their naked bodies.

"You don't really need the fur, do you?"

"I'm not cold if that's what you mean. But I do enjoy the feel of it on my skin."

He pulls her on top of him.

"Just like I enjoy the feel of _you_ on my skin."

_Angrboda smirks and gives him a long, sensual kiss, her body moving against his. Just as she sits up there's a bang on the front door of her house. She looks at Loki, rolls her hips once and gets up._


	24. scene 54f

_Scene 54 _

Angrboda opens her front door, sword in hand. She points it at her visitor's throat.

"Who are you?"

His gaze travels down her still naked body before locking eyes with her.

"I am Breka Borkason of the Asgardian palace guard, and I bring word from Queen Frigga for Prince Loki. Is he here?"

Angrboda stares at him for a long moment, sword unwavering. Eventually she lowers it.

"Wait here."

She closes the door in his face and returns to her bedroom. Leaning her sword against the wall she says:

"Your mother, the queen, sent a messenger."

"Who is it?"

"He says his name is Breka."

Loki lays back and closes his eyes.

"He can wait."

Angrboda sits down on the edge of her bed and gives him a half smile.

"I adore the rebellious streak, but she _is_the queen! Is it wise to make her messenger wait?"

Eyes still closed he says:

"If my mother—if _Frigga_ sent him here then she gave him instructions to respect your threshold. He _will_ wait."

She crawls back into bed.

"What exactly would he be waiting for?"

Loki pulls her close, running his hands over her skin.

"For us to finish our unfinished business."

"Do you want to—"

She gestures at the door.

"What, set up a spell?"

He shrugs.

"Like I said, he won't force his way in. And I don't mind him hearing us."

* * *

_Scene 55_

Loki gets up from Angrboda's bed. He hesitates briefly, but then he flicks his wrist and his Asgardian leathers shimmer into existence. When he steps out of the front door Breka pushes off the tree he's been leaning against. Before Breka can say anything Loki folds his arms across his chest.

"You're not welcome here."

"What?!"

"I mean it. This is Angrboda's house, and there's no place for you here."

"I just want to talk to you!"

"I have nothing to say to you. You were fun for a while. But all things end. You know my reputation. It's true. I don't care much for a life-time commitment."

Breka can't process what's happening. It doesn't make any sense. Did Loki find out about the assignment Uta had given him?

"All the things you said to me..."

Loki snorts.

"Just because I know how to talk a guy out of his armour doesn't mean it's eternal love."

Breka has to close his eyes for a moment. His voice is flat and toneless when he finally gets it to work.

"You really mean it."

"I do. Go back to the palace and find yourself someone else."

Breka forces himself to look at the man he loves. The man who just ripped his heart to shreds. Loki's eyes are hard and his face is guarded. Breka is unable to read him. Maybe he never read the prince correctly.

"So that's it."

Loki nods once. Breka squares his shoulders.

"I'm here on behalf of the queen. My orders are to bring you back. The golden throne is vacant, and the line of succession falls to you. What am I supposed to tell her?"

"I don't care. I'm not coming back. Tell her you couldn't find me. Or tell her I refused to come with you. I really couldn't care less."

It doesn't make any sense. Breka has never heard Loki speak of his mother any other way than with affection and respect. But it's very obvious that the discussion is over. So he takes one last look at Loki and leaves, confused and heartbroken. When he arrives at the palace he reports to the queen and disappears into the city to get well and truly drunk.


	25. scene 56f

_Scene 56, Angrboda's house_

"It's been a while," Angrboda says when she hands Loki his bow.

"You've kept it for me?"

"How else are you supposed to hunt?" She tilts her head to one side. "Or would you rather go in wolf form?"

He considers for a moment but then he takes the bow from her.

"This form is fine. Thank you. Where will we meet Fenris?"

"I'm sure he'll find us."

She checks her gear one last time and opens the front door.

"He'll be so happy to see you. He's grown a lot by the way."

They disappear into the woods together, and it doesn't take long for Angrboda to find the first deer tracks. They've been following the tracks for almost an hour when Angrboda suddenly drops to a crouch. Loki instinctively does the same. When he looks at her she nods at a little clearing in front of them—a deer is grazing on the other side of it, and behind it in the woods there's a pair of glowing eyes. Angrboda sits down without a sound and puts her bow down. Loki starts to smile. He closes his eyes and reaches out to his son. It takes a while for the connection to establish, probably because Fenris is so focused on his prey, but then Loki can hear his voice in his head:

_Father! I'm glad to see you!_

_So am I, son. Your mother is here, too._

_I know. I do have a nose._

Loki presses his lips together to keep from chuckling.

_Sorry. Human mistake. Do you want our help or should we retreat?_

Fenris looks straight at Loki over the distance. Loki shrugs.

_It's _your_ prey._

There's no verbal message, but Fenris is projecting a plan of attack that involves himself, Angrboda—and Loki in wolf form.

_Snob, _Loki answers over their connection. _Are you implying wolves are better hunters than humans?_

Fenris doesn't answer him, but Loki can almost see him snarl. After a while Fenris does answer:

_Fancy words. Still true._

Loki grins and signals to Angrboda what Fenris has in mind. She nods once. Loki shifts to wolf form and signals readiness to Fenris, and then they attack.

A few minutes later the deer is dead. Angrboda stands over it, bow in hand, while the wolves topple over each other in a cheerful family reunion. Their playful little fight ends with Loki on his back. Fenris starts licking his father's nose and face, all excited cub even though he's almost fully grown. Loki wiggles free and shifts to human form, ruffling the fur behind Fenris' ears. Angrboda watches them with affection for a moment, but then she pulls out her knife.

"If you boys don't mind—we should cut up the prey."

Loki straightens and draws his own knife.

"You're right."

While they work side by side Fenris keeps snapping at the deer.

"Fenris!" Angrboda scolds him when she finally has enough.

The young wolf presses his body flat on the ground and looks up at his mother with his tail waggling weakly.

"You'll get your share! I wonder who you get that impatience from."

Loki just chuckles.

"He's hungry. He's still growing."

Angrboda raises her eyebrows.

"Is this your first kill today son?"

Fenris looks down and then up through his lashes. When his mother keeps her stern expression he slowly shakes his head. Angrboda turns to Loki with the patented I-told-you-so look of long time spouses. Loki grins and holds up his hands.

"I desist from parenting your son."

* * *

_Scene 57_

On their way back to Angrboda's house Fenris starts snarling all of a sudden as if there was a threat nearby. His parents drop their quarry and fall into fight position immediately, back to back, bows raised, arrows nocked. Fenris takes position on their side, his snarls getting more and more aggressive. And then out of nowhere Frigga, queen of Asgard, is standing amongst the trees. Loki lowers his bow. Angrboda follows his example after a brief moment, stroking Fenris' head.

"It's all right, Fenris, she's an ally."

"And she's not really here," Loki adds, taking a step towards Frigga.

Frigga nods her head to Angrboda in a small bow, gives Fenris a smile and then turns to Loki.

"Loki. I have to talk to you."

"I'm not sure I have to listen."

She averts her eyes for a moment, but then she looks straight at him.

"Breka tells me you don't want to come home."

"It's not home," he hisses.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh spare me the wide-eyed look. I know what I am. I know why Odin took me."

Frigga looks like she has to steady herself. She takes a deep, uneven breath.

"So you found out."

"I did."

"Your father—"

"He is _not _my father! Unless you're referring to Laufey of Jotunheim, _your majesty_."

Frigga sighs.

"I mean it, Loki. Listen to me. Do—" Her gaze flickers over his companions. "Do your family know why you left the palace?"

"In this family we actually communicate, so yes, they do."

Frigga nods.

"Good. Your—Odin found you when you were a helpless child."

"Oh and he 'saved' me because he's such a benevolent warm-hearted person! Do you mean to tell me there weren't hundreds of my brethren killed that day, or left to die after their parents were slain? How convenient that Odin 'found' _me_, the prince. And how convenient that we only have his word for it. I think it's more likely he stole me, abducted me, ripped me from my mother's arms. He saw his chance, and he wasn't sure yet whether I'd be more useful dead or alive so he took me, to be kept alive and held hostage, or to be smothered if that was more convenient to the realm."

Loki clenches his fists. Frigga looks really pained now, but she's willing herself to say what she came to say, her voice deliberately calm:

"Here in the palace nobody knows about your heritage. As far as I am concerned you are still a prince of Asgard. The only one currently _on_ Asgard. The line of succession—"

"Falls to me, yes, I know. I don't care for that damned line. You want your realm ruled? Rule it. I have nothing more to say to you."

And with a motion of his hand, cutting right through the illusion, he disperses it, and Frigga is gone.


	26. scene 58f

_Scene 5__8__, __the golden palace of Asgard_

Frigga Fylladottir, first of her name, is crowned Queen of Asgard four weeks later in front of a cheering crowd. The people of Asgard have taken to the idea of a queen surprisingly fast and enthusiastically. Queen Frigga smiles at her people and thanks them and the members of her court, and then the feast begins and the newly crowned monarch retreats to her quarters. Her long time maid Uta takes the fur-lined coronation cloak off the queen's shoulders and helps her to change into a modest and comfortable dress.

"Is there anything my queen requires?"

"No, Uta, it's all right. You can retire for the night."

The moment the door closes behind Uta, Frigga becomes aware of a presence in the room. A very familiar presence. She turns around with a bright smile.

"My son."

"I'm not," Loki says quietly.

Frigga gives him a sad smile.

"I can't blame you if you won't consider me your mother any more. But you'll _always _be my son."

Loki looks at her with so much emotion that it's hard for her to hold his gaze.

"I'm sorry, mother," he whispers and crosses the room. Frigga opens her arms and pulls him close.

"There's no need. I'm glad you're here. I need you, son. If I am to rule this realm I need you at my side, your intelligence, your powers. I need your advice, and above all, I need _you."_

Loki withdraws from her embrace.

"I merely came to witness your big day. You're a magnificent queen and you'll be a glorious ruler. You don't need me for that."

Frigga gently traces his cheekbone.

"Please don't dismiss it right away. Stay for a while. Eat with me. Ride out with me. Take your time to come to a decision."

Loki doesn't say anything, his eyes on the floor. Frigga's expression turns from regal to motherly.

"And please talk to Breka."

Loki's head snaps up. Frigga smiles at him.

"I don't know what happened between the two of you but I can tell that you're not happy. Neither one of you."

"With all due respect, mother—"

"He's here."

"Well yes, I assume he would be."

"No, I mean he's here. Outside."

"What?! Why?"

"Because I asked him. I was hoping you'd come for the ceremony, so—"

"You set a trap for me."

"Loki," Frigga says with a sigh and caresses his cheek once more. "Are you sure you don't want to see him? Because if that's really what you want, I'll send him away."

The pain in her son's eyes is almost too much to bear.

"I can't, mother," he whispers.

"What went wrong between you, son?"

"He hates me, and he has every right to do so, and I haven't even told him the truth."

Frigga understands at once.

"It's not your fault, Loki. You didn't choose to be who you are and you can't change it."

"No, _that _was taken care of by a sorceress much more powerful than me," he spits.

Frigga flinches. She takes a step back.

"I don't know how to ask you for forgiveness for what we did to you. But please believe me that I've always loved you. You're my son. I desperately want you to be happy."

Loki's shoulders sag. His eyes are brimming with tears.

"There's nothing I want more than for him to forgive me," he whispers. "I miss him so much."

Smiling, Frigga steps close again.

"Why don't you start with telling him _that_," she suggests. She nods at him encouragingly and gives his shoulder a little squeeze.

* * *

_Scene __5__9_

Loki takes a breath and opens the door, stepping out into the hallway. Miraculously there's no guard on duty, only a familiar figure is leaning against a column. Loki's stomach clenches. When Breka sees him he pushes off the column, but stays where he is, his shoulders tense, his hands in fists at his sides. Loki swallows, desperately trying to get his heartbeat under control. For an eternity neither of them speaks. Finally Breka clears his throat.

"My lord."

It cuts right through Loki's soul.

"Breka," he answers in the same clipped tone.

"I'm surprised to see you here," Breka says, still polite, but completely neutral.

"The queen has asked me to stay. As her counsellor."

It's the only thing he can think of to say. _What was Frigga thinking, throwing them together like that? Was she trying to determine if they could tolerate each other?_

"Will you?"

Loki takes a deep breath and lets it out in a pained sigh. He closes his eyes and forces himself to say:

"I'm not the man you thought I was."

Belatedly he remembers to pull up a veil. When he feels it shimmer into place he locks eyes with Breka even though it's killing him.

"I 'm not an Odinson."

"So you're not royalty."

"Odin isn't my father. Frigga isn't my mother. I'm not Asgardian."

"So what are you then?"

Loki steels himself as best he can, widening his stance as if he's preparing for battle.

"I am Loki, of Jotunheim. Laufey's son."

His shoulders sag as he waits for Breka's reaction.

"I'm a frost giant, Breka."

"What?! How is that even possible?" Breka huffs out a breath. "Of course. You're a sorcerer. A shape shifter. You made me believe—to think that I—" He shivers, his lip curled up in disgust.

"I didn't know!" Loki tries to defend himself, but Breka is still looking at him as if he's about to be sick.

"I'd only just found when you told me how your family died," Loki says in an attempt to explain. Breka is clearly struggling to process. When he doesn't say anything, Loki squares his shoulders and lifts his chin.

"Anyway. I'm sorry the queen bothered you."

Loki turns to leave, hand raised to disperse the veil.

"You could have told me," Breka says, his voice still annoyingly neutral.

Loki turns back to look at him.

"What in the nine realms could I have told you, Breka? That it was my people who killed your father and sister, but since I didn't know, it didn't mean anything? That I was still Loki? Do you honestly think you could ever look at me again without seeing the face of a monster?"

"You could have trusted me to make the right decision. Hel, you could have given me a chance to even _make _a decision! Instead you just shut me out and ran, and when I came looking for you, waiting for you outside _your lover's house_, pride be damned, instead of explaining it to me then, you threw the most painful thing in my face you could possibly think of, humiliated me and _fucking __broke my heart_. Damn you, Loki Laufeyson. I am done with you. Let me know if you intend to accept the queen's offer because no way in Hel will I stay in the palace guard if you do."


	27. scene 60ff

_Scene __60_

Breka has left, breaking the veil in the process, and Loki stares after him for an eternity. He knows the queen meant well. He knows it's his own fault. And he knows he can't stay. He sends an illusion to the queen's private chambers telling her as much, and then he leaves the palace and shifts to wolf form. The golden halls have never really felt like home, and now they have lost every appeal they might have had.

* * *

_Scene 61, montage_

Loki roams the woods as a wolf and shifts to bird form from time to time, completely avoiding his human form. He sees Fenris from afar once but keeps his distance. When he finally brings himself to check in on Angrboda their daughter is born, as a raven, like Angrboda predicted, and already fledged. Angrboda would like him to stay for a while but he declines.

"I will be back, but it's not time yet."

"What are you waiting for?"

Loki doesn't know, or he doesn't say. Angrboda is worried about him because even though he looks physically fine, his eyes are empty. Lost. She tells him once more that he's welcome under her roof but he just nods and takes off again.

* * *

_Scene 62_

The next time Loki shows up at Angrboda's house she sits him down in her kitchen.

"I have a message for you."

"You do?"

"Yes. Breka was here two days ago."

"A message from the queen again?"

"No. I think it's more—personal."

Loki's head snaps up.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Angrboda grins.

"It was kind of cryptic but I'm almost certain—anyway. Apparently you two talked about that horse of his?"

"Yes?"

"Breka said he's still not healing properly. The horse, that is."

Loki's heart starts beating so fast he's getting dizzy.

"Any idea what he means?" Angrboda asks, but she's still grinning.

Loki gets up and kisses her.

"Thank you," he whispers, and a moment later he's gone.

* * *

_Scene 63_

Loki stops at the doors to the queen's chambers.

"Is the queen present?" he asks the guards.

One of them nods.

"Yes, my lord. Shall I announce you?"

"Yes."

The guard nods again and enters.

"My queen, Prince Loki is here to see you."

Frigga looks up from the papers on her desk and starts smiling.

"Let him in!"

The moment Loki enters the room she throws her arms around him.

"Loki! Oh I've missed you so much, my beautiful son."

He goes stiff for a moment, but eventually he relaxes into the embrace, pulling her close.

"I missed you too," he murmurs and kisses the top of her head. "Is the all-father still..."

Frigga steps back and nods.

"Yes. The healers are beginning to think that he might not wake up."

"I'm sorry," Loki says softly.

"Thank you."

For a moment there's silence between them, and then Frigga offers her son a seat. He sits down and looks at her.

"I need to understand what you did to me. How you made me Asgardian. It _was _you, wasn't it?"

Frigga looks pained, but she nods.

"Yes. It was. Your father and I—Odin and I decided you needed a disguise, so I changed your magical core. Jotun to Asgardian."

Loki steels himself.

"And you must have altered my memories."

Frigga closes her eyes and nods again.

"How many times?"

"A few times. When we feared you'd find out."

"You could have just told me."

"Yes. We should have. I'm sorry, Loki."

Loki takes a few deep breaths.

"Show me. I need to know everything you've kept from me."

When Frigga is done she gently touches his cheek.

"I don't know if you can ever forgive what we've done to you, Loki, but please believe me that I love you. Did you come back for this conversation only? Or is there anything else?"

Loki looks at her pensively. After a moment he straightens.

"Yes, there is something else."

He sinks to one knee, his fist on his heart.

"My queen, should you still wish to have me as a counsellor at your court, I'd be happy to accept your offer."

It takes her a moment, but then she smiles widely.

"Yes! Yes of course I still want that."

She takes his hands and pulls him up. Looking up at him, still smiling, she says:

"I'm glad you came home, son. And I can really use your help."

* * *

_Scene 64, the stables_

"Is it really the horse that needs me?"

Loki steps through the stable door with a smile that almost hides his nerves. Breka looks up, and for a long moment they just look at each other.

"I got your message," Loki says softly, moving a little closer to the horse, his eyes never leaving Breka's.

"Careful, he—"

"—doesn't trust easily, I know."

Breka swallows.

"Thank you for coming back. I know it must have been tough."

"Especially since someone made it very clear he didn't want me here."

Breka blushes.

"I'm sorry for that. In fact I'm sorry for a lot of things I said to you. I was rash, and unfair."

"You were hurt."

Breka looks down for a moment, but then he nods.

"Yes. I was. Which was the point, right? Hurt me enough to push me away."

"Before you find out the truth and push _me _away, yes. Hurt or be hurt. I'm sorry, Breka. You didn't deserve that. I should have given you some credit. Tell you the truth and trust you."

Breka takes a step closer.

"I can see why that was difficult. I mean right after—maybe you were right to assume I would have reacted badly."

"Still. I had no right to make that decision for you, and I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do to earn your forgiveness?"

"No."

When he sees the look on Loki's face Breka hurries to explain:

"I mean there's no need. For compensation I mean. Just—please stop lying to me, all right?"

Loki nods.

"All right."

"I've missed you," Breka says, "I need you in my life. I was an idiot to tell you otherwise. Will you stay?"

Loki starts to smile. He nods again.

"I just talked to the queen. I accepted her offer. This is home after all."

Breka closes the distance. After a moment's hesitation he opens his arms and Loki falls into his embrace.

"I love you," Loki murmurs right into Breka's ear.

"You've never said that before."

"I know. I had it on the tip of my tongue so many times, but I always swallowed it. And then I hurt you so badly and now I don't know if you even want to hear it any more but it's still true. I love you."

Breka pulls back.

"What about Angrboda?"

"What I have with her has nothing to do with you and me, Breka."

"Do you love her?"

"Yes. It's different from the way I love _you_, but I do. Her and our children."

Breka looks at him for a few heartbeats. Loki gently traces Breka's jawline.

"What about _you_? Can you handle the fact that I have other obligations? I might still have to get married some day."

Breka lets go and takes a step back.

"Right. Sigyn. Do you love _her_?"

"That was never about love. If it ever happens it will be a political marriage. You should see the paperwork..."

Breka thinks about it for a while. And then he reaches out and caresses Loki's face.

"But you do love me."

"With all my heart."

"Until Ragnarok."

Loki's throat closes, so he just nods. Breka leans in and kisses Loki, pulling him close, and tears of relief run down both their faces.

"I love you," Breka whispers between kisses. "I love you so much."


	28. scene 65ff

_Scene 65_

"So do you or don't you need help with this one?" Loki asks and breaks their embrace, nodding towards Breka's horse. Breka sighs.

"I do. A few people have tried but he keeps getting injured."

"Still the hind leg?"

"Yes."

Loki takes a step towards the horse.

"What's his name?"

"Venn."

Loki closes his eyes and starts talking to Venn in a low voice, rooted to the spot. After a few minutes Venn lowers his head and takes a step towards Loki. And then another one, and another one. His nose is now only a few inches away from Loki's chest. And then Venn lets out a quiet snort and starts nuzzling Loki's neck. Breka lets out a breath.

"That's—impressive."

"I like him," Loki says with a smile.

"Well obviously that's mutual!"

Loki slowly lifts his hand and places it on Venn's forehead. Eyes closed he starts talking again.

"I know you're in pain, Venn. I think I can help you. Will you let me?"

For a moment there's absolute silence in the stable, and then Venn stomps his hoof and nods.

"Alright. I'll have to look at your legs. I promise I'll be careful."

Venn's back tenses.

"Are you afraid?"

Venn snorts and throws his head up.

"Alright, it's fine, we'll try something else. I swear it won't hurt. May I?"

Another nod, very small and a little hesitant. Loki puts one hand on Venn's chest and the other one on his withers. Golden light starts to shimmer where their bodies connect. It spreads over Venn's back and legs down to his hooves. He relaxes and rests his head on Loki's shoulder. Loki closes his eyes and starts searching for the source of Venn's pain. The longer the contact lasts the sadder Loki looks. Breka's chest tightens, but he doesn't dare interrupt Loki's focus. Eventually Loki opens his eyes. Venn lifts his head and looks at him.

"I can help you, Venn. And it won't hurt. Shall we?"

Venn says yes, so Loki kneels down and slowly moves his hands over Venn's legs and fetlocks, lingering on a specific spot every now and then, never really touching though. He does it for each leg, and before he comes to Venn's left hind leg he stands and puts his hand on the horse's chest again. Murmuring softly he evokes a reddish shimmer. It turns to orange, then back to red, flickering, changing colour until it's almost the same golden shade as earlier. Loki breaks the contact and looks at Venn for confirmation. When he gets it he kneels back down and focuses on the weakest leg, the one that keeps getting injured. He takes a long time, but finally he straightens, rolling his shoulders and popping his neck.

"I think that should do it. I'll check in with you, Venn, all right?"

Venn looks sleepy but gives a little snort. Loki grins.

"He'll probably drop like a stone in about half an hour. It's normal, his body is adjusting."

Breka looks at him and shakes his head with a little smile.

"What just happened?"

Loki takes a breath. He looks paler than usual.

"I'll explain it to you some other time. Let's see if it works first. For now, I have to get going. The queen is expecting me."

"Oh, I see. Well don't make her wait," Breka says and gives Loki a kiss. "Thank you. From both of us."

"You're welcome. Both of you."

He turns to leave the stable.

"Can I see you later?" Breka asks.

Loki stops in the stable door. Grabbing the wood of the door he says:

"I'll be dining with the queen, so I'm not sure—"

And then Loki's knees buckle and he falls. Breka is with him in a second.

"Whoa, what's wrong?"

"It's—nothing. I'm just a little tired," Loki says and tries to get up. Breka holds him down.

"You're so pale your lips are about to turn blue. And you're sweating. What's going on?"

Loki stops struggling against Breka's grip and lets his head fall back.

"I might need a moment."

Breka raises his eyebrows.

"And—water would be great."

"I'll get you water. Don't you dare move."

When Breka returns with a mug of water Loki hasn't moved a muscle, and that scares Breka more than anything. He kneels down and takes Loki's head in his lap. He tries to hold the mug to Loki's lips but Loki insists on taking it himself. His hands are shaking and he spills some of the water but Breka lets him have his way. When Loki is finished, he sinks back and rests against Breka's body.

"Now would you please explain to me what's going on?" Breka asks softly.

"Magic is energy. Helping Venn took more than I anticipated and I hadn't eaten in a while."

"You wore yourself out!"

Loki shrugs.

"Looks like it."

"Oh Loki. What do I do?"

"Just let me rest for a few minutes."

"I should probably notify the queen."

"That's not necessary. It'll pass."

"I meant because she's expecting you."

Loki takes a breath.

"No, she isn't. I made that up to get away."

"What? Why?"

"Because I wanted to spare you this. Spare myself the humiliation. I didn't want you to see me like this."

Breka closes his eyes for a moment.

"I get that. Save face. But what did I tell you about lying to me?"

Loki stares up at him with an expression of sheer terror, wide eyed, barely breathing. And then he draws a painful breath and sits up, turning to face Breka, swaying, pale to the point of greenish, but willing himself to stay upright.

"Breka please! I'm sorry! I know you expect me to be honest with you. That was your only condition. I accepted it, and a mere hour later I'm already breaking the promise I gave you. But please! I'm sorry. It won't happen again I swear. I'll try harder. Please don't—"

"It's alright. People make mistakes."

"I'm sorry. Please—"

"Did you hear me? Apology accepted."

"Just like that?" Loki whispers in disbelief.

"Not just like that. You asked for forgiveness, and you meant it."

Loki lies back down, on the ground this time, and averts his eyes.

"Which is what you do when you have angered someone who holds power over you. It doesn't mean you get out of being punished."

Breka can't believe his ears.

"That's not—that is _exactly_ what forgiveness means! People apologise and are forgiven."

Now Loki _is_ looking at Breka, and his expression breaks Breka's heart.

"You are so broken," Breka whispers, for the first time really understanding how much pain Loki carries with him.

"I'm sorry," Loki says once more, voice breaking.

"Loki, what in the nine realms are you even apologising for?"

"For being—deficient. Weak. I'm—"

"It's not your fault! You're broken because you've _been_ broken, and you're far from weak. And even if you were, even when you are, that just means you need help. Let me help you."

Breka leans down and kisses him, eyes closed, pouring his soul into the contact.

"Let me help you heal, Loki."

After a while Breka sits up.

"Let's get you more comfortable. May I escort you to your chambers, my prince?"

"Technically, I'm not—"

"Shush."

* * *

_Scene 66, Loki's quarters_

Breka makes sure Loki lies down and then goes to get some food. In the doorway he turns around again.

"Just so we're clear, I still want you to be honest with me. But I realise it's a process. You'll have to _learn_ to trust me, and that's fine. Just try, all right? All I want is for you to feel, really feel in your heart that I'm worthy of your trust. I won't betray you, I promise."

Loki nods and smiles at him. It's a little weak, but it's a smile.

* * *

_Scene 67, Loki's quarters_

"So you're a—you're Jotun."

"Yes."

"How is that even possible? I mean, how do you look like an Asgardian? And how is it possible you never knew?"

Loki takes a deep breath.

"I had a long conversation with the queen before I agreed on staying, and she told me everything. It was her magic that turned me into an Asgardian. It's not just shape shifting, it goes a lot deeper. She showed me what she did. She also told me she still considers me her son—always has—and therefore a prince of Asgard. The throne could still be mine some day. If I want it."

"Do you?"

"No. Not now at least. Who knows what time will bring, but for now I think Asgard has the best monarch we have had in a long time. Maybe the best we have ever had. Magic will have a better standing, and so will science. And diplomacy."

_Breka can't help but think that __even though things went a lot different than __his mother __had planned her__ hopes are about the be fulfilled._

* * *

_Roll end credits._

_Beta read by Fari and Taru. All remaining mistakes are my own. No gods or animals were hurt in the process of making this story. BUt wait! I'm a Marvel girl! Which means..._


	29. post credit scene 1

_Post credit scene I (!)_

Frigga on the throne, Loki standing at her side. He puts his hand on her shoulder. She covers it with her own, smiling up at him.

"I'm glad you are by my side, Loki."

And then she abruptly straightens and breaks the contact.

_W__hat's wrong?_ Loki asks her silently.

_I'm sorry for showing my affection publicly. I won't do it again._

_What? Why not?_

_It might weaken your position at court._

Loki smiles at her. It's a warm, gentle smile that reaches his eyes. He leans in and whispers in her ear:

"_To be honest I'd rather belong to a court where affection isn't considered weakness."_


	30. post credit scene 2

_Post credit scene II (because I'm also a LOTR girl and a movie erm I mean story can't ever have too many endings!)_

Loki and Breka standing in the kitchen of a small house.

"I don't understand," Breka says, looking at Loki.

"Do you like it?"

"Well, yes, I do, but what—"

Loki gives him a gentle kiss.

"I'd like to make it a gift to you. A place to live."

"You're buying us a house?!"

"I'm buying _you _a house. And I'll gladly come here and spend as much time with you as I can. If you want that."

Breka just stares at Loki, a smile spreading on his face, and then he frames Loki's face with both hands and kisses him, passionately and lingering.

"_Yes. I do."_

_THE END. for real._


End file.
